UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
AT    LOS  ANGELES 


library  of  pbtlo0opb\>, 

EDITED  B  YJ.  H.  MUIRHEAD,  LL.D. 


THE   GREAT   PROBLEMS 


THE 

GREAT  PROBLEMS 


BY 

BERNARDINO   VARISGO 

PROFESSOR  OF  THIOBKTIC  PHILOSOPHY  IN  THK  UNIVERSITY  OF  ROME 


TRANSLATED    BY 

R.   C.  LODGE,  M.A. 


LONDON 
GEORGE   ALLEN   &   COMPANY,  LTD. 

44   &   45    RATHBONE    PLACE 
1914 

[Al!  rights  reserved] 


Printer!  l-y  HAU.ANTVNE,  HANSON  &  Co. 
at  the  Ballantyno  Press,   Edinburgh 


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co 

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This  translation  is  authorised  by  Profestor 
Varisco  and  by  the  Libreria  Editrice  Milanese, 
who  are  also  the  publishers  of  Professor 
Varisco's  companion  volume,  "  Conosd  te  stetso." 


C/5 

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CO 


EDITOR'S    NOTE 

BERNARDINO  VARISCO,  who  is  here  for  the  first  time 
introduced  in  translation  to  English  readers,  was  born 
at  Chiari  (prov.  of  Brescia)  in  1850.  He  is  described 
by  Ueberweg  and  Heinze  as  one  of  the  most  active 
speculative  minds  of  our  time,1  and,  for  the  object  of 
the  Library  of  Philosophy  to  include  the  most  repre- 
sentative thinkers  in  different  countries,  no  writer 
presented  himself  as  more  suitable  to  illustrate  recent 
speculation  in  Italy. 

His  chief  earlier  works  are  Scienza  e  opinioni,  Rome, 
1901 ;  Le  mie  opinioni,  Pavia,  1903  ;  Introduzione  alia 
Jilosojta  naturale,  Rome,  1903  ;  Studidijilosojia  naturale, 
1903 ;  La  conoscenza,  Pavia,  1904  ;  Forza  ed  energia, 
Pavia,  1904  ;  Paralipomeni  alia  conoscenza,  Pavia,  1905  ; 
Dottrine  e  fatti,  Pavia,  1905.  Subsequently  to  the 
present  volume  he  has  published  Conosci  te  stesso,  a 
translation  of  which  will  shortly  appear  in  this  Library. 

The  translation  of  /  massimi  problemi  which  is  here 
offered  is  from  the  first  edition,  published  in  Milan  1910. 
But  as  Professor  Varisco  has  rewritten  Chapter  II,  on 
Sensation,  for  the  new  Italian  edition  which  is  about 

1   Geschichtc  der  Philosophic,  iv.  p.  582. 


viii  The  Great  Problems 

to  appear,  and  introduced  considerable  changes,  chiefly 
by  way  of  omission  in  the  Appendices,  the  translator 
has  been  able,  through  the  kindness  of  the  Author  in 
sending  a  copy  of  his  manuscript,  to  bring  his  version 
up  to  date.  The  marginal  headings  of  all  the  chapters, 
except  the  second,  are  those  of  the  Author.  The  trans- 
lator alone  is  responsible  for  the  concluding  heading 
in  Chapter  II. 


AUTHOR'S    PREFACE 

So  far  as  the  conclusions  of  these  investigations  are 
positive,  they  can  be  summed  up  in  the  proposition  that 
things  and  facts  are  ultimately  determinate  forms  of 
one  self-identical  Being,  which  coincides  with  our  con- 
cept of  Being.  Is  there,  then,  nothing  new? 

Much  is  not  new;  but  still  something,  not  unim- 
portant, has  been  attained.  The  writer  has  succeeded 
in  developing  the  content  and  rendering  precise  the 
real  meaning  of  the  proposition  mentioned,  and  it 
appears  to  him  that  the  conclusions  reached  serve 
completely  to  exclude  a  number  of  questions  which  are 
unnecessary. 

In  the  following  pages  the  problem  of  Philosophy — 
for  the  "  Great  Problems"  are  ultimately  one  problem 
— is  not  solved.  But  it  is  formulated  in  such  a  way 
as  to  render  it  clearly  intelligible.  Without  this  the 
most  ingenious  attempts  and  most  strenuous  efforts 
serve  only  to  divert  us  from  the  path. 

ROME,  June  1909. 


CONTENTS 


CHAP.  PAGE 

I.  THE  SEARCH  AFTER  TRUTH 1 

II.  SENSE-PERCEPTION 31 

III.  MEMORY,  FEELING,  ACTION     ......  68 

IV.  COGNITION 100 

V.  VALUES 129 

VI.  REALITY  AND  REASON      .         .         .         .         .         .         .179 

VII.  BEING ...  220 

VIII.  CONCLUSION 268 

APPENDICES 

1.  GENERAL  CONSIDERATIONS 281 

II.  THEORY  or  KNOWLEDGE  .......  297 

III.  THE  LIMITATIONS  OK  INTELLIGENCE          ....  300 

IV.  TRUTH  AND  KNOWLEDGE 307 

V.  METAPHYSICS  AND  MORALITY 322 

VI.  THOUGHT  AND  REALITY 340 

VII.  1  IMMANENCE'  AND  TRANSCENDENCE 354 

INDEX      .  365 


THE    GREAT    PROBLEMS 

CHAPTER  I 

THE   SEARCH  AFTER   TRUTH 


THE  world  has  value  for  us  ;  it  is  the  source  of  pleasures 
and  pains,  of  life  and  death.  But  has  it  intrinsic  value  ? 
Does  nature  tend  towards  an  end  ?  To  this  philosophical 


end,  if  end  there  be,  can  we  in  any  way  con- 
tribute  ?  If  so,  how  ?  What  shall  we  say  of  importance. 
the  history  of  man  ?  Will  it  one  day  end,  leaving  no 
more  trace  of  itself  than  a  bubble  in  water  ?  Or  is  it 
directed  towards  an  end  ?  Does  personality  survive  the 
body  ?  Suppose  it  does  :  will  its  states  in  the  future 
depend  —  and  in  what  way  and  to  what  extent  —  on  its 
conduct  here  ?  Suppose  it  does  not  survive  :  is  it  still 
possible  —  and  if  so,  how  —  to  assign  a  value  to  the  in- 
dividual life,  in  spite  of  the  horrors  with  which  fate 
threatens  it  and  which  it  not  rarely  inflicts  upon  it  ? 
Is  there  or  is  there  not,  above  things  or  in  things,  a 
Principle  of  wisdom  and  goodness  which  governs  them  ? 
Propounding  to  ourselves  these  questions  and  others 
inseparably  connected  with  them  —  the  Great  Problems 
—we  seek  a  knowledge,  a  theory,  which  has  a  practical 
importance  of  the  first  order. 

Among  the  many  things  which  we  can  do,  there  is 
also  the   search   for   knowledge.     Man   has   more   value 

A 


than  the  brute  because  he  knows.  Civilised  man  has 
more  value  than  the  savage  because  he  possesses  a 
culture.  To  intensify  this  culture,  to  extend  and  deepen 
it,  and  to  develop  an  activity  most  precious  and 
peculiarly  our  own,  to  form  in  ourselves  a  possibly 
adequate  conception  of  things,  of  ourselves,  and  of  our 
position  among  things,  is  the  end  to  which  culture 
is  directed. 

The  opinion  of  some,  that  the  sciences  are  only  of 
use  in  so  far  as  in  their  application  they  are  materially 
beneficial  to  us,  is  a  vulgar  error.  As  the  telegraph 
exists,  it  is  natural  for  me  to  use  it,  and  to  be  greatly 
annoyed  if  I  am  prevented  from  using  it  in  case  of 
need  by  the  breaking  of  a  wire.  But  a  hundred  years 
ago,  when  there  was  no  idea  of  telegraphy,  people  did 
without  it  and  never  felt  the  want  of  it.  Difficulties 
occurred  which  the  telegraph  might  have  removed,  but 
per  contra  the  telegraph,  in  rendering  the  relations 
among  men  closer,  more  extended,  and  more  complex, 
has  given  rise  to  fresh  inconveniences. 

No  one  will  deny  that  the  material  advantages 
obtained  by  means  of  knowledge  are  advantages.  But 
to  believe  therefore  that  the  value  of  the  knowledge  is 
measured  by  such  material  advantages  is  the  height  of 
folly.  Is  the  stomach  the  servant  of  the  heart,  or  the 
heart  of  the  stomach  ?  A  foolish  question — the  heart 
and  the  stomach  serve  each  other  in  turn,  and  both  are 
of  service  to  the  life  of  the  organism.  Knowledge  gains 
for  us  material  advantages,  and  these  in  turn  facilitate 
the  acquirement  of  new  knowledge.  Theory  and  prac- 
tice are  mutually  interdependent — together  they  con- 
stitute the  life  of  man.  To  be  truly  and  fully  men — 
that  is  what  matters. 

Everyone  lives  in  a  determinate  environment.  Fate, 
or  a  choice  now  become  irrevocable,  assigns  him  a  duty, 


The  Search  after  Truth  3 

for  the  fulfilment  of  which  there  is  no  need  to  know  the 
solution  of  the  aforementioned  problems.     But  the  very 
concept  of  duty,  which  contributes  so  much  to  imprint 
on  human  activity  its  own  peculiar  characteristics,  is 
not  separate  from  the  sequence  of  thoughts  which  gives 
rise  to  those  problems.     Man  is  not  content,  like  the 
brute,  to  repeat  constantly  the  same  cycle  of  operations  : 
he  strives  incessantly  towards  a  "better."     And  how 
am  I  to  know  what  is  really  better?     How  am  I  to 
know,  not  merely  what  is  prescribed  to  me  by  my  actual 
relations  with  other  men  and  by  the  present  state  of 
intercourse,  but  in  what  direction  I  ought  to  strive  to 
modify  those  relations  and  this  state  in  order  that  the 
modifications    may    be    an    improvement — without    re- 
ference to   some   general   solution    of  those   problems  ? 
Human  society  was  and  is  always  a  field  of  battle.     The 
strife    is    determined    in    great    part — though    not   ex- 
clusively— by  the  differing  solutions  which  are  accepted 
of  the   Great   Problems,   or  by   the   different   ways   in 
which   we   conceive   the   "better"   which  we   desire  to 
realise.     To  this  day  there  are  two  opposing  conceptions, 
standing  in  strong  contrast  to  each  other — the  Christian 
and  what  we  may   call  the  Humanistic.     The  first  of 
these  makes  the  "better" — or  rather,  the  absolute  good 
— consist  in  an  order,  willed  by  God,  which  goes  beyond 
the  field  of  this  life,  and  which  each  of  us  can  himself 
realise   in    the    beyond,   provided    that    he    fulfils    here 
below  the  will  of  God.     The  subordination  of  terrestrial 
ends  to  those  of  the  world  beyond  is  essential  to  this 
conception.     Whereas  the  other,  the  Humanistic,  does 
not    recognise    or    admit    other    than    terrestrial    ends, 
anothei  life  than  the  present,  other  duty  than  that  laid 
down  by  the  aspiration  towards  a  "  better,"  an  aspiration 
which  has  a  value  of  its  own,  and  not  as  evidence  of  an 
unvarying  good  outside  us. 


The  Great  Problems 


II 

The  strife  between  these  two  conceptions,  while  it 

lasts,  is  certainly  the  most  vital  of  all  that  have  been  or 

are  likely  to  be  fought.     Because  of  the  two 

Philosophy  as  .  J 

unity  of         conceptions,    only   one   can    be    true,   and— 

culture.  i        •  i»  I 

neglecting  for  the  moment  the  possible 
variants  of  each — one  must  be  true.  If  opinions,  and 
therefore  laws  and  customs,  were  subjected  more  to  the 
influence  of  the  one  which  is  not  true,  farewell  to  all 
hope  of  real  improvement.  Humanity,  like  an  ill- 
educated  child,  would  be  on  an  evil  path. 

You  will  say  that  the  danger  is  not  to  be  feared, 
that  truth,  sooner  or  later,  in  spite  of  the  obstacles, 
or  rather  by  means  of  the  obstacles,  cannot  but  triumph 
by  its  own  intrinsic  force  ;  that  to  take  life  seriously, 
to  direct  it  efficaciously  towards  the  "better,"  there  is 
no  need  to  lose  oneself  among  the  subtleties  of  philo- 
sophers ;  that  philosophers  are  professedly  all  ani- 
mated by  a  superlative  zeal  for  humanity  and  always 
speak  in  the  name  of  what  is  dearest  and  most  living 
in  our  consciousness,  but  in  practice  can  only  build 
system  on  system  without  succeeding  in  reaching  any 
agreement ;  that  if  humanity  had  to  wait  to  be  informed 
by  them  of  what  was  really  important — alas  for  poor 
humanity ! 

Such  language  is  unintelligible.  The  triumph  of 
truth  consists  in  its  being  recognised.1  Opponents 
speak  as  if  philosophy  were  a  sort  of  cabal  which 
vainly  pretended  to  discover  the  truth  by  certain 
mysterious  artifices.  Philosophy  is  in  reality  nothing 
but  the  name  by  which  \ve  designate  the  search  and 
knowledge  of  the  supreme  truth.  Either  we  may  reason- 

1  And  practised ;  but  its  recognition  necessarily  precedes  its  practice. 


The  Search  after  Truth  5 

ably  presume  that  the  false  conception  will  in  the 
end  be  eliminated,  and  this  is  to  admit  that  the  true 
solutions  of  the  Great  Problems  will  finally  be  dis- 
covered, so  that  we  shall  reach  the  construction  of  a 
philosophical  science  ;  or  else  philosophical  investigation 
is  useless,  and  then  the  danger  which  our  opponents 
accuse  us  of  fearing  without  reason  would  become  an 
inevitable  and  present  loss.  The  two  opposed  con- 
ceptions will  continue  to  struggle,  modifying  each  other 
indefinitely ;  one,  be  it  which  it  may,  will  perhaps 
prevail  in  the  end.  But  this  variation  of  opinions  will 
be  without  advantage ;  for  there  is  no  advantage  in  a 
change  of  opinions  which  does  not  mark  an  approach 
towards  the  truth. 

That  philosophy  has  fulfilled  none  of  its  promises  is 
untrue.  Philosophical  doctrines  are  not  in  the  same 
state  to-day  as  formerly.  The  constantly  renewed  dis- 
cussion of  the  Great  Problems  has  had  the  result,  if 
no  other,  of  presenting  them  in  forms  more  precise  and 
exact  as  they  pass  from  hand  to  hand.  Perhaps  there 
is  not  yet  a  philosophical  science ;  there  are  still  un- 
settled controversies,  but  the  chaos  of  opinions  is 
gradually  falling  into  order.  Certain  errors  are  no 
longer  possible,  and  certain  mile -stones  mark  with 
accuracy  the  way  of  truth.  It  is  easy  for  one  who 
understands  nothing  of  philosophy  to  say  that  philoso- 
phers do  not  understand  each  other.  In  reality  they  do 
understand  each  other  and  make  themselves  understood 
by  others,  so  as  to  exercise  an  efficacious  and  salutary 
influence  on  culture,  and  indirectly  on  practical  lite. 

To  insure  the  uninterrupted  advance  of  man  towards 
a  "better"  culture,  divided  into  a  number  of  depart- 
ments of  study — each  of  which  arranges  and  groups  the 
known  truths  of  a  given  class — is  not  enough  ;— just  as 
the  truths  of  an  uncultured  man,  if  unsystematised,  are 


6 

not  enough,  however  numerous  and  important  they  may 
be.  Disconnected  truths,  and  those  circumscribed  groups 
of  truths  which  are  the  various  departments  of  study, 
form,  so  to  speak,  only  the  body  of  culture.  The 
soul,  without  which  the  body  is  not  alive  or  capable 
of  action,  without  which,  however  many  elements  of 
culture  there  may  be,  there  is  no  one  culture, — the  soul, 
which  ought  to  co-ordinate  the  actions  of  the  body, 
directing  them  to  the  supreme  purpose,  is  constituted 
by  the  consciousness  of  the  relations  which  the  functions 
of  the  several  parts  of  the  body  have  with  the  supreme 
purpose.  Culture  cannot  be  organically  unified,  cannot 
assure  us  against  fundamental  errors  which  divert  us 
from  the  true  path,  i.e.  culture  fails  in  its  aim  and 
falls  back,  as  regards  what  is  essential  into  barbarism,1 
so  long  as  it  is  not  strengthened,  inspired,  and  in- 
vigorated by  the  solution  of  the  Great  Problems — i.e. 
by  philosophy. 


Ill 

If  we  can  labour,  and  not  in  vain,  at  the  construction  of 
philosophy  as  a  science,  we  owe  it  to  the  fact  that 
Preconceptions  culture  has  gone  on  developing,  intensifying, 

and  the  need  of  i  •  i       i  r»     i  -j_ 

eliminating  ail(^  arranging  itself  by  its  own  power. 
This  has  not  taken  place  apart  from  philo- 
sophical inquiry ;  for  it  is  evident  that  this  consti- 
tutes by  itself  a  noteworthy  part  of  culture,2  though 
apart  from  a  philosophy  already  constructed  and  estab- 
lished as  a  science.  This  fact  seems  to  contradict  what  we 
just  now  asserted;  but  the  contradiction  is  only  apparent. 

'  Nor  would  it  matter  much  if  the  barbarism,  instead  of  bein«j  rough, 
were  refined  and  delicate—  we  may  In;  dressed,  clothed,  fed,  and  amused 
likt;  princes,  and  be  worth  nothing  as  men. 

2  A  principal  part,  we  may  say,  for  without  it  tho  deepest  and  truest 
meaning  of  the  other  parts  would  have  remained  unperceived. 


The  Search  after  Truth  7 

Certainly  before  man  possesses  a  clear  and  explicit 
knowledge  of  the  truth,  he  has  a  presentiment  of  it — a 
feeling,  confused  but  living  and  on  the  whole  not 
fallacious — which  serves  him  as  a  guide  along  the  road, 
by  no  means  short  or  easy,  which  has  so  far  been 
traversed.  "See,  then,"  say  our  opponents,  "there  is 
no  such  need  of  a  scientific  philosophy  as  you  asserted ; 
spare  yourself  the  trouble  ;  fata  viam  invenient."  That 
may  be,  but  we  may  desire  to  shorten  that  way  and 
also  to  render  it  more  secure,  for  no  one  can  deny  that 
man  has  made  many  steps  on  it  and  many  off  it,  not 
to  speak  of  time  spent  in  marking  time.  Things,  being 
as  they  are  the  inheritance  of  culture,  are  to  a  great 
extent  in  the  hands  of  chance.  Who  can  say  what 
would  have  happened,  if  the  result  of  the  battle  of 
Plataea  had  been  different,  or  if  Hannibal  had  marched 
on  Rome  immediately  after  Cannse  ? 

We  are  gathering  fruits  ripened  and  accumulated 
little  by  little  in  the  course  of  ages  of  struggling.  Things 
have  gone  on  the  whole  fairly  well,  though  not  entirely 
so.  In  the  inheritance  which  has  fallen  to  us,  elements 
of  suffering  are  not  lacking,  though  history  has  been 
on  the  whole  fairly  favourable  to  us.  But  it  might 
have  been  unfavourable ;  the  destinies  of  humanity 
were  more  than  once  suspended  by  a  thread,  and  woe 
to  us  if  it  had  broken  !  It  will  be  prudent  for  the 
future  to  trust  a  little  less  to  the  "  fates  "  and  to  strive 
to  be  ourselves  masters  of  our  own  destiny.  It  is  time 
to  transform  into  sure  knowledge  the  feeling  by 
which  we  have  allowed  ourselves  to  be  guided  some- 
what blindly.  The  feeling  is  living  but  confused.  It 
has  led  on  the  whole  to  good  results  ;  but  it  has  also 
been  subject  to  stupefactions  and  aberrations  all  but 
irreparable.  These  might — who  knows  ?— be  repeated 
and  not  meet  airain  with  favourable  circumstances  to 


8  The  Great  Problems 

correct  them.  That  we  should  trust  ourselves  to  feeling 
when  we  had  no  other  guide,  and  did  not  even  see  that 
we  were  abandoning  ourselves  to  it,  was  natural ;  but 
that  we  should  continue  to  trust  ourselves  to  it  after 
having  recognised  it  for  what  it  is — after  the  desire  for  a 
precise,  clear,  and  scientifically  certain  knowledge  has 
arisen  and  simply  forced  itself  upon  us — would  no  longer 
be  reasonable.  Let  us  try,  then,  to  solve  the  Great 
Problems  scientifically ;  then  only  shall  we  know  where 
we  are  going,  what  we  want,  what  we  can,  and  what  we 
ought  to  do.  Let  us  construct  our  philosophy. 

In  saying  that  we  must  not  trust  ourselves  to  feeling, 
we  do  not  imply  that  it  is  right  to  neglect  it.  The 
psychical  fact  of  feeling  may  be  the  evidence  of  a  reason, 
the  manner  in  which  a  reason  of  which  a  subject  has  no 
knowledge,  or  at  least  no  clear  knowledge,  authenticates 
itself  to  his  consciousness.  But  it  may  also  be  that  the 
value  of  that  fact  is  very  different  from  that  which  the 
subject  in  his  ignorance  attributes  to  it.  For  instance, 
one  child  is  irritated  by  an  injustice  done  him,  another 
by  a  scolding  which  he  has  deserved.  As  observed  facts, 
the  two  feelings  will  be  very  similar  ;  but  the  first  is 
reasonably  justified,  whereas  the  raison  d'etre  of  the 
second  lies  in  a  mental  disposition  which  ought  not  to 
exist.  The  feeling  of  the  divine  is  justified,  as  we  shall 
see ;  yet  not  all  the  opinions  based  upon  it — opinions 
which,  in  a  man  incapable  of  deep  reflection,  could  have 
no  other  foundation— are  justifiable. 

Philosophy  cannot  eliminate  an  opinion  for  the 
reason  that  the  sole  justification  adduced  in  its  favour 
can  be  reduced  to  a  feeling.  The  feeling  might  imply 
a  reason  not  yet  rendered  explicit.  But  as  its  aim 
is  to  render  full  reason  for  everything,1  philosophy 

1  Obviously,  if  anything  remains  for  which  no  reason  can  be  given,  a 
genera]  conception  of  things  is  not  possible. 


The  Search  after  Truth  9 

cannot  admit  at  once  as  true  an  opinion  whose  sole 
justification  can  be  reduced  to  feeling.  It  must,  on  the 
one  hand,  discuss  the  opinion,  and,  on  the  other,  value 
the  feeling  and  see  if  it  implies  a  satisfying  reason  or 
not.  It  may  be  that  the  falsity  of  the  opinion,  recog- 
nised theoretically,  may  suffice  to  persuade  us  of  the 
irrationality  of  the  feeling ;  but  it  may  also  be  that  the 
validity  of  the  feeling,  recognised  practically,  may 
suffice  to  prove  the  truth  of  the  opinion.  Philosophy 
ought  not  to  admit  preconceptions  of  any  sort. 

The  opinions  which  commonly  exist  with  regard  to 
the  solutions  of  the  Great  Problems  depend  for  the  most 
part  on  preconceptions  which  deprive  them  of  scientific 
value.  I  do  not  speak  only  of  those  who  absorb  their 
religion  or  irreligion  ready-made  from  their  environment 
as  a  sponge  absorbs  water,  or  of  those  who  follow  a 
party,  under  the  impression  that  they  have  chosen  it, 
but  really  because  they  find  themselves  herded  with 
others  in  it.  Again,  many  philosophers  who  have  learning, 
intelligence,  and  industry,  and  can  use  these  to  advantage 
in  the  discussion  of  secondary  questions,  take,  in  face  of 
the  Great  Problems,  an  attitude  determined  by  the 
impression  received  from  their  general  culture.  But 
this  impression  has  neither  been  analysed  nor  discussed, 
and  therefore  has  value  only  through  the  feeling  asso- 
ciated with  it.  And  this  is  the  true  reason  why  a  Chris- 
tian philosopher  and  a  humanist — the  one  presupposing 
Christianity  and  the  other  humanism— seem  to  have  no 
common  ground  on  which  to  fight  the  question  out. 

We  propose  to  make  clear  what  is  known  and 
nothing  else,  to  the  exclusion  of  what  is  believed  '  from 
motives  which  are  not  reasons.  We  propose,  therefore, 
to  exclude  every  preconception,  every  presupposition. 
Certainly  it  is  one  thing  to  say  this,  another  to  do  it. 

1  There  is  an  irruliirious  faith  as  well  as  a  relUnous  faith. 


io  The  Great  Problems 

But,  if  we  may  fear  other  pitfalls,  we  feel  ourselves  secure 
from  those  which  are  the  most  dangerous  in  philosophy 
—those  of  feeling — for  we  do  justice  to  feeling.  We 
recognise  that  it  may  have  reasons  to  make  it  valid  ; 
we  demand,  however,  that,  if  it  has  any,  it  shall  vin- 
dicate itself  under  the  form  of  reason. 


IV 

How  are  we  to  solve  the  Great  Problems  ?  We  have 
opinions ;  we  communicate  them  to  one  another  and 
Knowledge  as  a  discuss  them.  That  is  something,  and  pre- 
•' given."  cisely  that  something  in  which  consists  our 

superiority  over  brute  beasts.  Certain  opinions  express 
in  a  collective  form  the  results  of  a  collective  experience, 
for  the  most  part  natural,  not  intentional,  which  has, 
however,  endured  for  centuries.  Everyone  receives  these 
verified  by  his  predecessors  and  hands  them  on,  having 
verified  them  in  his  turn.  It  is  not  possible  for  them 
to  be  altogether  illusory,  nor  to  fail  to  correspond  on 
the  whole  with  reality. 

Men  of  goodwill  intentionally  undertake  research 
in  fields  not  accessible  to  most  men.  To  the  conscious- 
ness of  the  end  they  unite  an  accurate  study  of  the 
means.  In  addition  to  this  they  labour  together.  Each 
informs  himself  of  the  opinions  of  others,  discusses  them, 
and  profits  by  them  if  occasion  serves.  Further,  of  the 
opinions  so  obtained,  when  they  have  been  verified  by 
all  those  who  are  capable  of  verifying  them,  it  must  be 
believed  that  they  correspond  to  reality. 

There  is  a  popular  knowledge  and  there  are  sciences. 
The  aptitude  for  knowledge  and  the  effective  possession 
of  many  truths  cannot  reasonably  be  denied  to  man. 
Sceptical  objections  are  unprofitable.  It  is  no  good 
supposing  or  taking  for  granted  that  our  pretended 


The  Search  after  Tmth  u 

knowledge  is  resolvable  into  opinions  with  no  other 
meaning  and  no  other  value  than  that  of  being  our 
opinions.  The  sum  total  of  these  opinions,  with  the 
relations  which  connect  them,  and  the  distinctions  by 
which  some  are  called  true  and  others  false,  some  certain 
and  others  doubtful,  remain  the  same.  It  is  this  which 
is  called  knowledge.  You  may  prefer  to  call  it  by 
another  name.  Good.  It  is  not  the  name  that  matters, 
but  the  thing,  and  as  for  the  thing,  there  is  no  argu- 
ment that  can  eliminate  it,  for  every  argument  implies 
it,  or  rather  belongs  to  it. 

But  of  the  many  things  of  which  we  have  knowledge, 
those  which  we  must  know  to  obtain  the  solution  of  the 
Great  Problems  are  not  found.  I  know,  because  I  see 
it,  that  snow  melts  into  water.  I  know  that  the  earth 
is  spherical,  although  I  do  not  see  it,  because  I  deduce 
it  necessarily  from  what  I  do  see.  But  whether  per- 
sonality exists  after  the  death  of  the  body  or  not,  I 
have  never  been  able  to  learn  for  certain  by  observation, 
nor  yet  so  far  by  the  path  of  sure  reasoning. 

Naturally  we  cannot  count  among  known  truths 
those  solutions  of  the  Great  Problems  which  are  con- 
tained in  a  religion — in  particular,  in  the  Christian 
religion — or  in  a  philosophy.  Among  these  solutions 
some  are  without  doubt  true.  For  instance,  either 
personality  endures  after  the  death  of  the  body,  as 
Christians  assert,  or  it  does  not,  as  others  maintain. 
One  of  these  two  assertions  is  certainly  true  and  the 
other  false.  But  we  cannot  yet  consider  either  as  a 
known  truth.  In  fact,  we  seek  to  learn  which  is  true, 
or,  if  nothing  else,  we  seek  the  reasons  by  which  that 
affirmation  which  we  know  to  be  true  must  be  justified 
and  proved.  Now,  if  we  seek,  we  do  not  presuppose 
knowledge.  Explicitly  we  do  not  know.  Either  we 
do  not  know  which  of  the  two  affirmations  is  true,  or 


12  The  Great  Problems 

we  do  not  know  the  reasons  which  make  it  true.1  In 
any  case,  we  cannot  assume  as  known  an  affirmation 
which  by  the  very  fact  of  our  investigation  we  recognise 
as  doubtful  or  as  not  proved.  The  only  truths  which 
it  is  lawful  to  assume — which  for  our  investigation  have 
the  value  of  acquired  truths — are  those  which  form 
common  knowledge  and  the  several  sciences.  Philo- 

o 

sophy  in  its  loftiest  signification  lies  outside  this  sphere, 
and  we  propose  to  construct  it  now. 


V 

These  truths  are  certainly  capable  of  unlimited  in- 
crease ;  to  suppose  they  have  an  impassable  limit  is 
nonsense. 

Let   us   imagine   that   a   point  M,  starting  from   A, 
insufficiency  of  moves  with  uniform  motion  in  a  straight  line 
^-  X.     There  will  never  come  a  time  in  which 
M  will  have  entirely  traversed  the  straight 

ever  increased.    jjne  .    |3ut    Qn    tjie    otner    JiaiKlj  ft    \s   not    pos- 

sible to  mark  a  point  L  on  it  which  M  can  never  pass. 
The  continual  acquisition  of  new  truths  by  man  can  be 
compared  with  this  motion.  Man  will  never  arrive  at 
knowing  everything;  but  on  the  other  hand,  there  is 
nothing  of  which  we  can  assert  that  man  will  never 

O 

reach  the  knowledge  of  it. 

Granted  that  the  point  M  passes  in  the  end 
every  assignable  point  in  the  straight  line,  never- 
theless it  never  moves  except  on  this  —  every  external 
point  is  inaccessible  to  it.  So  we  can  say  the  truths 
which  constitute  common  knowledge  and  science,  i.e. 
positive  truths,  however  much  they  may  multiply  and 


1  Whoever  holds  that  there  is  DU  distinction  between  these-  two  ignor- 
ances deceives  himself,  hut  we  cannot  stop  here  to  discuss  his  urror. 


The  Search  after  Truth  13 

extend  without  limit,  will  always  remain  of  the  same 
positive  nature.  They  will  never  give  us  the  solution 
of  the  Great  Problems,  which  consequently  will  remain 
for  ever  unsolved.  We  shall  be  able  to  form  for  our- 
selves, as  we  have  done  hitherto,  opinions  more  or  less 
probable,  such  as  to  satisfy  easily-contented  minds,  but 
not  to  arrive  at  scientific  knowledge.  For  example, 
God  lives  in  the  sky.  This  was  believed  for  a  time,  and 
many  still  believe  it.  We  may  examine  the  sky  with 
telescopes  many  thousand  times  more  powerful  than  ours 
or  with  other  means  at  present  inconceivable.  It  is  quite 
certain  that  we  shall  not  discover  God.  And  it  is  no 
less  certain  that  our  not  discovering  Him  can  be  no 
proof  of  His  non-existence. 

Certain  doctrines  which  form  part  of  a  religion, 
certain  stories  connected  with  it,  can  be  tested  by 
positive  knowledge.  In  this  way  it  would  appear  a 
religion  can  be  proved  false.  But  as  regards  Christianity, 
and  even  Catholicism,  such  a  criticism  leads  us  no 
further.  A  means  of  eliminating  the  contradictions 
between  positive  knowledge  and  what  is  matter  of  faith 
can  always  be  found.  The  Copernican  hypothesis,  for 
instance,  appeared  irreconcilable  with  the  truth  of  Scrip- 
ture and  was  consequently  condemned.  That  hypothesis 
to-day  is  beyond  question  ;  but  in  spite  of  that  there  is 
no  Catholic  who  considers  that  in  admitting  it  he  does 
the  least  violence  to  his  faith. 

Those  to  whom  the  existence  of  religions  is  dis- 
pleasing must  resign  themselves.  Religion  may  lack  an 
intrinsic  reason  ;  but  it  is  not  proved  to  lack  it,  nor  can 
it  be  proved  by  a  contradiction,  however  striking, 
between  positive  knowledge  and  certain  affirmations, 
dogmatic  or  historical,  accepted  as  true  for  a  time  by 
the  followers  of  the  religion.  The  essence  of  the  religion 
consists  in  its  being  a  solution  of  the  Great  Problems.  All 


14  The  Great  Problems 

that  can  be  modified  without  trenching  upon  the  solution 
is  modified  under  the  pressure  of  culture,  and  ends  by  no 
longer  belonging  to  the  body  of  religious  doctrines.  So 
an  organism  does  not  lose  the  unity  of  its  constitution, 
although  it  abandons  the  elements  which  are  no  longer 
living,  which  really  no  longer  belong  to  it  and  would  do 
harm  if  they  remained  united  to  it. 

But  cannot  culture  and  positive  knowledge  compel 
religion  to  even  deeper  transformations,  to  change  its 
very  essence,  to  substitute  another  for  it,  or  to  destroy 
it  ?  Certainly  they  can  ;  and  they  have  done  so,  more 
than  once.  Fetishism,  for  instance,  is  only  compatible 
with  a  very  rudimentary  culture.  But  we  must  con- 
vince ourselves  of  one  thing :  Culture  realises  these 
results,  not  as  an  aggregate  of  particular  positive 
truths,  no  matter  of  what  kind  or  how  numerous,  but 
in  virtue  of  its  philosophic  mind.  Philosophy  is  implicit 
in  culture,  and  succeeds,  though  not  directly,  in  in- 
forming consciousness ;  or,  if  we  prefer  to  say  so,  in 
informing  culture  as  a  synthesis  and  as  an  organic  unity 

—this  is  the  force  that  detaches  the  cultured  conscious- 
ness from  an  irrational  religion. 

Nevertheless,  as  we  have  noted,  we  can  only  trust 
implicit  philosophy  up  to  a  certain  point.  He  who  says 
"implicit  philosophy,"  says  "general  impression  not 
analysed  or  discussed  " —in  a  word,  "feeling."  And 
a  feeling,  however  respectable,  may  be  irrational  and 
cannot  be  interpreted  as  a  duty.  A  religion  is  false  in 
so  far  as  it  is  an  untrue  solution  of  the  ( >reat  Problems 

—to  eliminate  it  with  certainty  we  must  find  their  true 
solution.  We  must  render  explicit  that  philosophy 
which  in  culture  is  only  implicit ;  we  must  construct 
the  true  philosophy. 

The  same  question  always  presents  itself  to  us: 
How  are  we  to  construct  philosophy  if  positive  know- 


The  Search  after  Truth  15 

ledge,  if  culture,  no  matter  how  broad  and  deep,  can  tell 
us  nothing  of  those  things  which  we  must  know  in 
order  to  possess  philosophy  ? 

VI 

We  must  solve  this  difficulty  or  recognise  that  the 
Great  Problems  are  insoluble.  And  this  question  pre- 
sented itself  at  first  in  a  problematic  form :  HOW  the  Great 
is  philosophy  possible  ?  The  doubt  seemed  ^1°™^  study 
justified  by  the  experience  of  centuries.  SSSX^Se 
Among  the  authors  of  so  many  systems  some  unknowable- 
were  superior  to  the  bulk  of  mankind  through  unwearied 
activity,  learning,  and  ability.  If,  however,  no  system 
can  resist  criticism,  must  not  the  fault  be  referred  to  the 
intrinsic  impossibility  of  solving  the  problems  proposed 
rather  than  to  the  authors,  or  to  some  carelessness  on 
their  part  or  mistake  that  can  be  repaired  ?  Here  is  a 
point  to  be  cleared  up  if  we  do  not  wish  to  expose 
ourselves  to  the  risk  of  for  ever  making  attempts 
destined  to  remain  fruitless. 

In  some  such  way  arose  the  idea  of  premising  a 
criticism  of  consciousness  to  philosophy  properly  so 
called.  Are  there  limits  to  our  power  of  knowing?  It 
would  seem  so,  since  no  one  would  dare  to  boast  that  he 
knew  everything  or  was  infallible.  What,  then,  are 
these  limits  ?  It  was  not  difficult  to  realise  that  the 
field  of  things  we  can  know  coincides  with  that  of  those 
which  we  can  experience.  For  those  of  our  truths 
which  are  not  derived  from  experience — mathematical 
truths,  for  instance — still  concern  the  forms  of  experi- 
ence, and  in  a  field  which  is  not  that  of  experience  have 
no  applicability  or  meaning.  In  short,  we  have  posi- 
tive truths,  and  can  procure  others  without  limit,  but 
we  cannot  pass  beyond  the  field  of  positive  knowledge. 


i6 

Wishing  to  solve  a  problem,  we  must  of  necessity 
base  ourselves  upon  known  truths,  and  the  known 
truths  upon  which  we  can  base  ourselves  are  positive. 
For,  in  fact,  we  possess  no  others — at  least,  not  until 
we  have  constructed  the  philosophy  which  has  not  yet 
been  constructed.  But  from  positive  truths  none  but 
positive  truths  can  be  derived.  Therefore  the  solution 
of  the  Great  Problems,  the  construction  of  a  knowledge 
going  beyond  positive  knowledge,  is  impossible.  There- 
fore philosophy  can  be  nothing  but  the  systematisation 
of  positive  knowledge  ;  to  advance  further  is  not  granted 
to  man  ;  to  endeavour,  when  climbing  a  ladder,  to  get 
higher  than  the  top  of  the  ladder,  is  madness. 

In  the  doctrine  in  view  something  at  once  strikes  us 
by  its  incongruity.  Let  us  leave  uiidiscussed  for  the 
moment  the  question  whether  the  impossibility  of  pass- 
ing beyond  positive  knowledge  has  been  fully  proved. 
Let  us  assume  it  proved.  We  ask  how,  when  we  cannot 
know  anything  beyond,  we  can  ever  assert  that  there  is 
a  "  beyond  "  which  is  in  the  nature  of  things  unknow- 
able. For  with  the  assertion  that  the  "  beyond  "  is  un- 
knowable comes  the  affirmation  that  it  exists.  Now,  a 
"  beyond "  of  which  we  know  the  existence,  is  not  an 
absolutely  unknown  thing— is  not  unknowable.  To  reply 
that  we  know  nothing  of  the  "beyond"  except  that  it 
exists,  is  simply  to  multiply  errors.  For  in  order  to  call 
the  knowing  nothing  of  the  "  beyond  "  except  its  exis- 
tence, not  knowing  it,1  we  should  have  to  know  also  that 
existence  is  not  the  only  characteristic  of  the  "beyond." 
It  is  not  possible  for  a  thing  to  possess  no  characteristic 
except  that  of  existence.  For  things  which  we  experi- 
ence this  is  granted,  but  with  what  right  can  we  extend 
this  principle  to  that  of  which  the  assertion  is  made, 

1   At   tho   most,   we   could   only   say,   not  knowing  it  completely — hut 
unough  of  that. 


The  Search  after  Truth  17 

that  we  can  either  know  nothing  at  all  or  only  the  fact 
of  its  existence  ? 

From  the  premise  that  all  our  knowledge  is  limited 
to  things  which  we  can  experience,  we  desire  logically 
one  conclusion  only :  that  things  which  we  can  experi- 
ence exist ;  that  there  are  no  things  which  we  cannot 
experience.  For  the  assertion  that  something  which 
we  cannot  experience  exists,  necessarily  implies  that  our 
knowledge  extends  beyond  what  we  can  experience. 
And  not  only  the  assertion,  but  the  mere  supposition 
implies  this.  A  supposition,  to  be  anything  more  than 
sheer  folly,  must  obviously  be  justified  by  knowledge. 
But  knowledge,  limited  to  things  capable  of  being 
experienced,  never  authorises  us  to  risk  a  supposition, 
however  vague,  about  anything  outside  these. 

VII 

A  serious  error  in  the  doctrine  referred  to,  is  that  of 
considering  itself  as  the  recognition  of  a  limit  to  the 
power  of  knowing; ;  whereas  we  conclude  that 

„    .  .  ,.      .  T      Criticism  con- 

the    power    ot    knowing   has    no   limits.     It  turned;  its 
extends,   in   fact,  over  the  world  of  possible 
experience — i.e.  if  we  do  not  wish  to  contradict  ourselves, 
over  the  world  of  existence.     Then  the  Great  Problems 
are   certainly  capable   of  solution  ;  positively  or  nega- 
tively, they  can  certainly  be  solved. 

Men,  after  having  believed  and  believed  and  believed, 
and  after  having  found  themselves  always  without  ex- 
ception deceived,  have  become  distrustful  and  pay  no 
further  heed  to  one  who  talks  of  truth.  This  distrust, 
which  is  far  from  groundless,  has  become  so  exaggerated 
that  it  has  passed  into  its  own  opposite  and  become  a 
blind  credulity.  After  someone  had  said  it,  all  men  like 
sheep  go  on  repeating  it.  "  Human  reason  is  limited. 

B 


1 8  The  Great  Problems 

Certain  problems  will  remain  for  ever  insoluble."  No- 
body looks  to  see  if  the  assertion  has  any  meaning.  It 
appears  moderate,  and  nothing  more  is  needed  to  make 
them  remain  contented  with  it.  They  do  not  reflect 
that  the  moderation  of  the  statement  is  only  apparent. 
Reason,  finite  according  to  Titius,  is  unlimited  according 
to  Sempronius.  The  same  problems  which  Titius  calls 
insoluble  Sempronius  says  can  be  solved.  To  make  the 
assertions,  as  they  do,  both  Titius  and  Sempronius 
ought  to  be  convinced  that  they  have  rendered  to  them- 
selves a  clear  and  exact  account  of  the  Great  Problems. 
Good.  We  praise  the  moderation  of  Titius,  and  we 
blame  the  presumption  of  Sempronius.  Yet  Titius  pre- 
sumes just  as  much  as  Sempronius.  Where  is  our 
common  sense  ? 

We  may  not  speak  of  the  power  of  knowing  without 
making  distinctions.  Our  opponents  also  make  distinc- 
tions ;  for,  while  they  admit  the  possibility  of  knowing 
all  that  is  subject  to  experience,  they  also  admit  that 
each  of  us,  however  long  he  lives,  can  never  know  more 
than  a  minute  fraction  of  the  same.  We  make  the 
same  distinction.  We  admit  the  possibility  of  knowing 
everything,  and  we  admit  also  that  no  one  ever  possesses 
more  than  a  minute  fraction  of  possible  knowledge,  and 
that  not  free  from  error.  The  impossibility,  in  fact- 
practical,  not  theoretical — which  I  experience,  of  knowing 
everything  and  escaping  error,  depends  not  on  my  power 
of  knowing  but  on  my  being  a  finite  man  living  in  finite 
circumstances  (of  time,  place,  &c.). 

Some  distrust  of  what  appears  to  us  to  be  true  is 
justified,  because  each  of  us  possesses  but  a  limited 
knowledge  and  a  limited  aptitude  for  profiting  by  it. 
In  spite  of  my  efforts  to  arrive  at  truth,  the  gaps  in  my 
knowledge,  especially  those  I  do  not  perceive,  and  the 
erroneous  opinions  bound  up  with  it,  are  obstacles  which 


The  Search  after  Truth  19 

may  mislead  me.  Besides,  are  my  efforts  really  directed 
solely  by  my  desire  to  reach  the  truth  ?  May  it  not 
be  that  the  serenity  of  my  work  is  disturbed,  without 
my  perceiving  it,  by  desires  of  another  kind  ?  That,  for 
example,  false  shame  prevents  me  from  recognising  an 
error?  Again,  in  working,  I  grow  tired — perhaps  less  than 
another,  but  still  I  grow  tired.  My  writing  at  a  given 
moment  becomes  odious  to  me  :  I  long  to  escape  from  it. 
If  I  could  have  exercised  more  control  over  my  weari- 
ness, or  if  I  had  never  been  compelled  to  make  haste  by 
circumstances  imperious  though  external  to  me,  I 
should  perhaps  have  done  better.  Smile  who  will,  there 
is  little  to  smile  at.  He  who  believes  himself  superior 
to  these  weaknesses,  may  enjoy  the  illusion  of  being 
something  great ;  but  his  value  is  less  than  his  who  has 
no  such  illusion.  He  is  no  sincere  lover  of  truth  who 
does  not  recognise  that  his  forces,  however  great,  are 
always  inadequate.  But  from  this  it  would  be  absurd 
to  infer  that  the  power  of  knowing — Reason,  so  far  as 
the  power  of  knowing  is  Reason — is  essentially  limited 
or  intrinsically  defective.  The  idea  of  subjecting  to 
criticism  the  power  of  knowing,  in  order  to  ascertain  its 
value,  to  determine  if  it  has  limits,  and  if  so  what  limits, 
is  absurd.  It  is  impossible  to  criticise  the  power  of 
knowing  except  by  the  power  of  knowing.  The 
viciousness  of  the  circle  could  not  be  more  evident. 
Though  I  have  at  my  disposal  no  other  instruments  to 
weigh  with,  I  can  recognise  that  a  balance  is  false,  and  I 
can  obtain  true  weights  from  a  false  balance,  because 
besides  watching  the  balance  I  can  reason  conclusively. 
I  say,  for  instance — the  balance  which  is  now  in 
equilibrium,  its  two  scales  being  loaded  with  certain 
weights  (whether  equal  or  unequal  I  do  not  know),  will 
or  will  not  be  just  according  as  it  remains  or  does  not 
remain  in  equilibrium  when  the  weights  are  exchanged. 


2O  The  Great  Problems 

Make  the  conclusion  of  the  argument  doubtful  and 
the  criticism  of  the  balance  will  no  longer  be  possible. 
If  our  power  of  knowing  had  limits,  it  would  not  be 
able  to  recognise  them.  We  recognise  the  limits  of  our 
visual  power,  but  we  do  not  see  them  : — I  see  the  distant 
mountain  blue, — I  know,  from  having  seen  at  close 
quarters  the  same  mountain  or  other  mountains,  that  it 
is  not  blue, — I  conclude  that  at  that  distance  the  eye 
does  not  distinguish  colours.  This,  which  I  conclude, 
I  cannot  possibly  see.  To  ascertain  through  vision  the 
limits  of  my  visual  power,  I  should  have  to  see  the 
blue  mountain  and  its  true  colour  at  one  and  the  same 
time. 


VIII 

He  who  propounds  to  himself  the  Great  Problems, 

asks  if  beyond  the  things  that  are  the  object  of  positive 

knowledge — beyond   those,  that   is,  of  which 

Not  criticism,  &  J 

but  theory  of  we  have  and  can  have  experience — there  are 
others.  Of  these  others,  be  it  understood,  we 
can  form  no  notion  not  founded  on  positive  knowledge : 
to  reach  a  truth  which  we  do  not  actually  possess,  is 
not  possible  except  by  means  of  truths  which  we  do 
actually  possess.  There  are  only  two  alternatives : 
either  positive  knowledge  contains  a  ladder,  by  climb- 
ing which  we  succeed  in  getting  above  it ;  or  we  shall 
never  succeed  in  getting  above  it  at  all,  but  must 
content  ourselves  with  extending  it,  arranging  it,  making 
it  more  and  more  coherent.  Suppose  we  have  ascer- 
tained which  of  these  two  hypotheses  is  true ;  then, 
whichever  of  the  two  be  the  true  one,  the  Great  Prob- 
lems will  be  solved. 

One    of  these    was,  for    instance :    "  Is   there    or    is 
there    not,    above    things   or    in    things,   a   principle   of 


The  Search  after  Truth  21 

wisdom  and  goodness  that  governs  them?"  Positive 
knowledge,  duly  examined  and  analysed,  will  either 
supply  or  fail  to  supply  evidence  on  this  point.  In 
the  first  case,  we  shall  know  for  certain  that  the  prin- 
ciple exists.  In  the  second,  we  shall  know  for  certain 
that  the  principle  does  not  exist :  and  then  to  persist 
in  assuming  it,  to  doubt  whether  it  can  exist,  and 
to  seek  for  it,  will  be  totally  unjustified.  Provided, 
of  course,  that  the  denial  that  positive  knowledge  con- 
tains any  evidence  with  regard  to  the  principle  ex- 
presses the  result  of  an  exhaustive  research  and  not 
simply  our  individual  ignorance.  Positive  knowledge 
might  include  and  necessarily  presuppose  the  principle 
without  Mr.  X.  being  aware  of  it.  From  this  we 
could  infer  nothing  except  that  Mr.  X.  was  a  man 
of  no  very  keen  perception. 

Positive  knowledge  contains,  then,  without  doubt, 
the  solution  of  the  Great  Problems.  It  only  remains 
to  seek  it  there.  But  seeking  it  there  cannot  consist 
in  extending,  systematising,  and  making  positive  know- 
ledge coherent.  Because  this — extended,  systematised, 
and  connected  to  any  extent  whatever — is  always  of 
the  same  nature.  It  deals  with  experience,  and  not 
with  the  origin  and  destinies  of  things  and  of  our- 
selves. In  order  that  positive  knowledge  may  lead 
us  where  we  wish  to  go,  we  must  not  be  content  witli 
having  it :  we  must  make  a  well-thought-out  use  of  it, 
—construct  a  theory  from  it. 

The  theory  might  also  be  constructed  by  taking  as 
basis  the  knowledge  of  a  savage.  For  knowledge  not 
thought  out  and  reflected  upon  is  always  in  substance 
of  the  same  nature  l ;  and  the  second  is  no  more  theory 
than  the  first.  It  is  true  that  the  savage  is  not  capable 

1  As  the  crawling   of  a  tortoise  and  travelling  by  railway  are  actual 
movements. 


22  The  Great  Problems 

of  reflection  and  consideration,  while  the  cultured  man 
is.  Philosophy  presupposes  culture,  because  the  man 
without  culture  neither  propounds  certain  problems  to 
himself  nor  possesses  the  mental  disposition  necessary 
for  their  discussion.  But  the  material  of  philosophic 
reflection  is  knowledge  as  such ;  and  that  the  know- 
ledge should  be  of  such  a  kind  and  amount  as  to 
constitute  culture,  is  an  advantage,  but,  as  far  as  the 
material  is  concerned,  only  a  secondary  advantage. 

IX 

The  uneducated  man  and  the  learned  man  who  has 

not  studied  philosophy  know  ;  but  they  take  no  account 

of  how  they   know,   or   of  what    knowledge 

The  idea  of  .  J*. 

the  theory:  really  is.  I  hey  can  be  compared  with  one 
knowledge  who  makes  use  of  a  watch  without  knowing 
how  or  why  it  has  the  virtue  of  marking 
the  time  correctly.  By  looking  at  a  watch  from  the 
outside,  we  can  learn  to  make  use  of  the  indications 
which  it  gives,  and  to  discover  many  of  its  charac- 
teristics— its  size,  shape,  &c. — but  we  cannot  know 
how  the  watch  does  its  work.  To  acquire  this  other 
knowledge,  is  anything  but  observation  needed  ?  No  ; 
but  we  must  make  observations  other  than  those 
which  consist  in  looking  at  the  watch  from  the  outside. 
We  must  open  the  watch.  In  opening  the  watch,  in 
examining  it  minutely,  in  taking  it  to  pieces  and 
putting  it  together  again,  do  we  get  beyond  the  watch  ? 
Evidently  not.  But  we  get  beyond  the  watch  so  far 
as  only  seen  from  the  outside.  We  get  beyond  that 
knowledge  which  we  had  of  it  in  this  way,  and  we  gain 
other  knowledge  of  it  which  could  never  be  attained 
if  we  were  restricted  to  looking  at  it  from  the  outside. 
Analogously,  he  who  contents  himself  with  possessing 


The  Search  after  Truth  23 

the  common  truths,  possesses  a  positive  knowledge  un- 
doubtedly useful,  but  he  does  not  get  beyond  it.  The 
solution  of  the  Great  Problems  remains  unknown  to 
him.  He  who  observes  not  the  objects  from  the  ob- 
servation of  which  the  aforesaid  knowledge  is  derived 
but  knowledge  as  such,  succeeds  by  means  of  common 
knowledge  in  passing  beyond  common  knowledge,  and 
may  in  such  a  way  succeed  in  solving  the  Great  Problems. 
Common  knowledge  is  transcended  by  means  of  common 
knowledge ;  it  is  transcended  in  so  far  as  it  becomes 
itself  the  object  of  observation.  Common  or  positive 
knowledge  contains,  in  fact,  a  ladder  which,  being 
climbed,  leads  us  above  it.  No  tower  could  contain 
a  similar  ladder ;  but  knowledge  is  not  a  tower. 

Philosophy  is  not  reducible  to  positive  knowledge  ; 
it  is  not  a  mere  conglomeration  of  common  truths ; 
and  yet  it  does  not  imply  the  presupposition  that 
there  are  things  inaccessible  to  the  vulgar  with  which 
the  initiated  come  in  contact  by  means  of  certain 
mysterious  practices.  To  construct  it  requires  only  a 
reflective  knowledge  of  knowledge.  That  known  truths 
are  something  inaccessible  or  mysterious,  no  one  will 
say.  We  are  all  capable  of  them,  and  all  possess  them. 

To  reflect,  not  on  the  object  of  some  knowledge  in  order 
to  know  more  of  it,1  but  on  the  knowledge  as  such 
to  become  clearly  conscious  of  its  presuppositions,  of 
its  implications — this  is  our  aim  ;  and  it  is  certainly, 
though  not  perhaps  easily,  attainable.  This  attained,  the 
solution  of  the  Great  Problems  would  be  obtained.  We 
could  then  deepen  it  indefinitely,  as  is  the  case  with  all  the 
sciences,  but  the  principles  would  be  fixed  once  and  for 
ever.  For  besides  things  of  which  we  can  have  knowledge, 
and  knowledge  itself,  nothing  else  exists  or  can  exist. 

The    theory  of  knowledge    on    which    philosophy    is 

1  This  too  can  be  done ;  but  we  are  not  concerned  with  it  here. 


24  The  Great  Problems 

constructed  is  quite  another  thing  than  its  critique.  The 
critique  of  knowledge  is  impossible,  as  we  have  seen. 
And  it  has  no  raison  d'etre.  We  know  that  we  can  know  ; 
it  is  absolutely  impossible  to  deny  it,  and  it  is  presup- 
posed by  criticism  itself.  The  theory,  however,  is  some- 
thing which  remains  for  us  to  make  after  we  have 
acquired  knowledge,  and  it  is  something  that  can  be  made. 
One  warning,  of  which  there  is  hardly  need :  the 
thought  of  subjecting  knowledge  to  criticism,  of  sum- 
moning reason  to  produce  its  title-deeds  before  the 
tribunal  of  reason,  though  unjustifiable,  was  meritorious. 
It  was  the  first  form,  necessarily  imperfect  because  the 
first,  of  a  just  conception — the  conception,  namely,  which 
we  have  developed :  that  philosophy  ought  to  be  con- 
structed on  the  discussion  of  knowledge  as  such.  Only, 
the  discussion  can  and  ought  to  be  directed,  not  towards 
testing  knowledge,  but  towards  rendering  it  fully  con- 
scious of  itself. 

X 

The  name  "  Theory  of  Knowledge  "  may  give  rise  to 
an  error.  Theory  and  practice  are  commonly  contrasted. 
Theory  and  Practice  is  action  always  designed,  directly  or 
their ^separ-  indirectly,  to  attain  a  good  or  to  avoid  an 
ability.  Qv\\.  Its  presupposition  is  that  man  is  cap- 

able of  receiving  good  or  evil,  of  enjoying  or  of  suffering. 
This  capacity,  though  distinct  from  action,  is  insepar- 
ably connected  with  it ;  it  is,  therefore,  itself  considered 
as  a  practical  element.  If,  for  example,  we  were  not 
capable  of  physical  pleasures  and  pains,  a  number  of 
things,  most  important  to  us,  would  have  no  further 
value  for  us,  and  we  should  either  not  act  at  all  or  act 
very  differently  from  the  way  in  which  we  do  at  present. 

But  to  attain  the  ends  towards  which  practice  is 
directed,  it  is  not  enough  that  we  should  be  capable 


The  Search  after  Truth  25 

of  receiving  good  or  evil,  of  setting  before  ourselves 
as  an  end  the  attainment  of  a  good  or  removal  of  an  evil, 
nor  of  acting,  i.e.  of  modifying  ourselves  or  things  or  the 
relations  between  us  and  things.  We  must  also  know 
by  what  operations,  by  what  means,  an  end  which  we 
propose  to  ourselves  can  be  attained.  We  must  there- 
fore know  things,  our  own  selves,  and  the  relation 
between  ourselves  and  things.  Practical  power  re- 
quires knowledge,  which  assumes  in  consequence  a 
practical  value  of  the  first  rank. 

Although  it  acquires  a  practical  value  in  this  way, 
knowledge  remains  quite  distinct  from  practice.  It 
is  theory.  This,  although  directed  towards  practice, 
or  rather  in  order  to  be  able  to  be  of  assistance  to 
practice,  must  be  distinct  from  it.  To  abstract  from 
the  values  which  things  have  for  us,  is  a  condition 
for  arriving  at  the  knowledge  of  things  as  they  are. 
A  doctor,  for  instance,  will  examine  a  patient — I  will 
not  say  without  caring,  but  as  if  he  did  not  care  about 
his  sufferings  or  the  anxieties  of  his  family.  So  he 
should  do,  and,  that  he  may  be  able  to  do  so,  a  doctor 
ought  not  to  be  a  near  relative  of  the  patient.  Similarly 
with  the  natural  sciences — physiology,  mechanics,  &c.,  and 
with  all  theory. 

Among  the  objects  that  we  can  know,  there  are  also 
values — there  will  therefore  be  theories  also  of  values. 
A  theory  of  values  may  make  use  of  another  theory  ; 
but  it  always  remains  quite  distinct  from  it.  To 
value  a  coin,  it  may  be  useful  or  necessary  to  know  its 
chemical  composition  ;  but  this,  which  is  a  piece  of 
paper,  is  none  the  less  worth  much  more  than  if  it  were 
an  equal  weight  of  gold. 

The  distinction  here  shown  may  be  introduced  also 
into  the  field  of  philosophy.  We  have  thus  a  theoretical 
and  a  practical  philosophy.  The  solution  of  the  Great 


26  The  Great  Problems 

Problems  seem  to  belong  to  theoretical  philosophy.  In 
substance,  what  is  it  that  we  wish  ?  To  make  for  our- 
selves a  clear  and  precise  conception  of  the  world  con- 
sidered in  its  totality.  To  obtain  such  a  conception,  we 
must  assume  in  face  of  reality  the  character  of  indifferent 
spectators,  like  the  doctor  before  the  patient,  like  the 
physicist  before  material  nature.  Is  not  the  abstraction 
from  values  a  condition  of  arriving  at  the  knowledge 
of  things  as  they  are  ?  Let  us  observe  the  register. 
Here  are  things  a,  6,  c,  between  which  exist  the 
relations  r,  s,  t.  Things  and  relations  vary  according 
to  the  laws  a,  /3,  <y,  and  these  interfere  thus  and  thus. 
Man  also  can  be  studied  in  the  same  way  and  under 
a  double  aspect :  (1)  as  one  of  the  things  of  which  the 
world  is  composed  ;  and  (2)  as  an  indifferent  spectator 
of  the  world.  To  the  theory  thus  constructed  we  can 
give  the  name  of  Metaphysics. 

On  the  other  hand,  practical  philosophy  also  follows 
its  own  path  and  develops  into  another  distinct  theory. 
The  values  most  peculiar  to  man,  and  without  doubt 
the  greatest,  are  the  moral  values.  Therefore  practical 
philosophy  is  especially,  if  not  quite  exclusively,  moral 
philosophy.  That  it  is  possible  to  construct  an  inde- 
pendent moral  philosophy,  precisely  as  it  is  possible  to 
construct  an  independent  metaphysics,  there  can  be 
no  doubt.  "  The  moral  life  is  the  manifestation  of  a 
special  function  of  the  spirit,"  and  "  the  idea  of  value— 
of  moral  value — can  only  be  obtained  by  a  special  form 
of  experience."  Studying  this  experience,  we  construct 
our  ethics,  as  studying  visual  experience  we  construct 
optics,  or  as  studying  experience  as  a  whole  we  con- 
struct metaphysics. 

"  But  perhaps  metaphysics  and  moral  philosophy, 
constructed  separately  and  independently  of  each  other, 
are  not  reconcilable  ?  " 


The  Search  after  Truth  27 

Of  moral  philosophy  we  demand  that  it  should  de- 
termine with  exactness  the  end  which  we  ought  to 
propose  to  ourselves  in  acting.  But  without  informing 
ourselves  of  what  the  nature  of  things  allows  us  to  hope 
for  and  to  attempt,  it  is  not  possible  to  determine  the  end. 
Of  metaphysics  we  demand  that  it  shall  give  us  a  clear 
and  adequate  conception  of  things.  But  if  we  make 
abstraction  of  our  ends,  which  are  verily  something  and 
not  outside  the  world,  it  is  not  possible  to  form  a  clear 
and  adequate  conception  of  things. 

Ethics  presupposes  metaphysics  and  metaphysics 
presupposes  ethics.  If  we  wish  to  solve  the  Great  Prob- 
lems, we  must  construct  a  science  which  is  both  ethics 
and  metaphysics,  which  is  metaphysical  in  so  far  as  it 
is  ethical,  and  ethical  in  so  far  as  it  is  metaphysical. 
Here  is  the  true  conception  of  philosophy.  The  outlines 
of  philosophy  must  be  those  of  a  theory  of  knowledge. 
But  knowledge  must  be  studied  in  its  integrity,  not 
only  theoretically  but  also  in  its  practical  character. 
"Not  only  .  .  .  also"  are  not  the  proper  expressions, 
for  we  are  speaking  of  only  one  activity  which  is  ever 
fulfilling  one  and  the  same  function.  In  knowing,  the 
man  realises  his  end,  and,  in  realising  his  end,  he  knows. 
We  must  comprehend  the  unity  of  the  two  apparently 
distinct  functions.  This  is  the  problem. 


XI 

One  difficulty  of  the  problem,  generally  neglected,  is 
put  in  evidence  in  the  teaching  of  Jesus.  He  com- 
posed neither  a  system  of  metaphysics  nor  a  A  difficulty  of 

i        TT*      •     i       i  ...  the  tli60- 

creed.     His  intent  was  to  inspire  in  man  an  retico-prac- 
active  love  of  the  true  and  supreme  good,  to  to^e^ex* 
found  on   earth   the   kingdom  of  God.     The  ™ritate." 
wisdom  taught  or  aroused  by   Him  cannot  exist  with- 


28  The  Great  Problems 

out  doctrine.1  But  in  His  teaching,  the  doctrine,  for 
the  most  part  implied,  is  never  demonstrated.  It  is 
enclosed  in  the  wisdom  with  which  it  is  also  saturated. 
So  to  him  who  fails  to  reach  the  wisdom,  the  doctrine 
must  seem  problematic  and  incomprehensible.  He  Him- 
self says  so  : — "  Gram's,  qui  est  ex  veritate,  audit  vocem 
meam."  Clearly  implying :  "  The  others  do  not  let  them- 
selves be  persuaded  because  they  cannot  hear.  Either 
one  word  of  Mine  suffices  or  centuries  of  polemics  will 
not  avail." 

What  does  it  mean,  "  to  be  ex  veritate  "  ?  The  man 
ex  veritate,  in  the  first  place,  understands 2  that  the  goods 
of  this  world  are  not  true  goods,  and  would  not  be 
unmixed  with  evil  even  if  we  could  have  them  all. 
Pleasures,  health,  power,  consideration,  even  the  sweetest 
affection  so  far  as  it  is  fixed  upon  a  creature  who  will 
vanish  like  ourselves — all  is  vanity.  Even  the  inward 
peace  which  is  the  reward  of  conduct  which  is  praise- 
worthy from  a  human  point  of  view,  is  illusory  and 
fundamentally  sad.  Life  which  exhausts  itself  in  such 
experiences  would  not  be  worth  living.  In  the  second 
place,  he  understands,  and  feels,  as  we  said,  that  person- 
ality, his  own  as  well  as  that  of  others,  cannot  fail  to 
have  an  intrinsic  value.  Our  doing,  our  suffering,  our 
aspiring  to  something  better,  must  be  justified.  They 
are  not  vain  appearances,  but  reality.  Whether  they 
happen  or  do  not  happen  cannot  be  all  one  ;  it  cannot  be 
indifferent  and  inconclusive.  Our  sight  is  darkened, 
our  desires  are  disordered  and  impure,  because  all  or 
nearly  all  of  us  miss  the  road.  But  the  true  road  exists  ; 
how  are  we  to  discover  it  ?  We  mistake  for  elements  of 

1  This  gives  the  reason  alike  for  the  Creed  and  for  the  successive  de- 
velopment and  complexity  of  Theology,  and  I  do  not  understand  how  others 
can  speak  with  lightness  either  of  the  Creed  or  of  Theology. 

1  Not  in  theory  alone — it  is  an  understanding  which  is  at  the  same  time 
a  living  in  the  fulness  of  feeling. 


The  Search  after  Truth  29 

strength  what  are  really  elements  of  weakness.  We  do, 
however,  possess  a  real  strength  ;  how  are  we  to  recognise 
it  ?  At  a  distance,  in  the  twilight  we  mistake  a  shadow 
for  a  body,  but  the  shadow  is  certainly  projected  by  a 
body.  Similarly  we  see,  instead  of  the  true  good,  its 
reflexions,  variable  in  the  appearances  of  the  world,  and 
in  running  after  the  reflexions  we  go  to  ruin.  But  that 
the  true  good  exists  is  proved  also  by  its  misleading 
reflexions.  The  error  is  not  in  seeking  for  it,  but  in 
seeking  for  it  where  it  cannot  be  found. 

Let  us  purify  ourselves.  Let  us  free  ourselves  from 
concupiscence,  from  idleness,  from  a  miserly  and  blind 
egoism,  capable  even  of  believing  and  feeling  itself 
happy  in  its  misery  and  through  its  misery,  and  let 
us  recognise  that,  if  life  as  most  men  understand  it 
is  not  worth  living,  a  worthy  life  is  none  the  less 
possible. 

To  be  ex  veritate  signifies,  therefore,  in  substance,  to  be 
in  the  dispositions  which  are  needed  in  order  that  the 
truth  may  be  recognised  immediately  it  presents  itself. 
The  dispositions  are  of  a  practical  character — purity  and 
rectitude,  or,  in  other  words,  nobility  of  feeling.  The 
truth  which  they  prepare  us  to  recognise  will  then  be  a 
practical  truth.  The  man  ex  veritate  might  therefore 
turn  out  a  bad  mathematician.  He  might  also  fail  to 
recognise  his  duties,  but  if  others  point  them  out  to  him, 
he  recognises  them  without  hesitation.  His  high  feeling 
is  an  implicit  knowledge  to  which  an  opportunity,  an 
incentive,  is  all  that  is  needful  to  make  it  explicit. 
Therefore  the  man  ex  veritate,  although  perhaps  he  has 
not  an  intellect  fit  for  the  complex  investigations  of 
philosophy,  will  be  disposed  and  ready  to  recognise  the 
truth  of  the  philosophy  which  is  communicated  to  him. 
In  his  feeling,  the  knowledge  of  his  duty  or  of  his  aim 
being  implicit,  the  solution  of  the  Great  Problems  is  also 


30  The  Great  Problems 

implicit  eo  ipso.  To  render  it  explicit  nothing  is  needed 
but  an  opportunity,  an  incentive. 

Hence  it  follows  that  the  man  ex  veritate,  provided 
that  he  has  a  philosophic  mind  and  the  knowledge  that 
is  necessary  for  philosophising — philosophy  does  not  im- 
provise— can  construct  the  philosophy  or  at  least  approach 
it  as  near  as  is  allowed  by  circumstances,  by  his  state  of 
culture,  especially  philosophical  culture.  But  it  also 
follows  that  the  man  most  favourably  gifted  and  placed 
in  the  most  favourable  conditions,  will  not  recognise  or 

*  o 

discover  the  philosophic  truth,  the  solution  of  the  Great 
Problems,  unless  he  be  ex  veritate.  One  can  be,  for 
instance,  a  great  astronomer  and  a  moral  good-for-nothing. 
Although  it  is  true  that  all  knowledge  presupposes  a 
moral  value  in  the  knower ;  nothing  is  done  in  any  field 
without  a  little  virtue.  But  in  short,  that  amount  of 
virtue  of  which  an  astronomer  has  need,  is  compatible 
with  a  disposition  that  in  quite  another  order  is  the 
opposite  of  the  characteristic  of  the  man  ex  veritate.  In 
philosophy  it  is  not  so.  He  who  does  not  approach  it 
with  a  pure  heart  and  an  upright  mind  approaches  it 
in  vain.  For  the  supreme  truth  of  philosophy  is  an 
eminently  practical  truth.  He  who  does  not  love  it 
seriously  and  with  all  his  forces  does  not  recognise  it. 


CHAPTER  II 

SENSE-PERCEPTION 


WHAT  is  the  meaning  of  "  to  see  "  ?     All  know  except 
the  blind ;  let  us   nevertheless    try  to   give   a   precise 
account   of  this  which  all  know.     We  are  The  fact  of 
speaking  of  seeing,  not  of  the  organs  of  vision  t?on*'Sie  sense- 
or  of  the  processes  which  serve  them  as  a  SJflJjJJJ*1"1 
means  ;  however  it  takes  place,  what  sorts  of  Perceival>le- 
knowledge  does  the  fact  of  seeing  permit  us  to  acquire  ? 

I  see  the  inkstand  on  the  table,  but  if  I  content 
myself  with  seeing  it,  I  shall  only  be  able  to  acquire 
knowledge  of  its  shape  and  colour  ;  all  its  other  qualities 
remain  unknown  to  me — nay,  so  long  as  I  remain  in  one 
and  the  same  position  with  reference  to  the  inkstand,  even 
its  shape  and  colour  are  only  partially  seen  by  me.  What 
I  see  reduces  itself  to  an  image  which  can  be  imitated  by 
drawing — that  is,  if  we  neglect  the  complications  due 
to  the  binocularity  of  vision,  which  can  be  obviated  by 
using  a  stereoscope.  Further,  such  an  image  occupies 
one  and  the  same  place,  together  with  other  properties 
of  the  inkstand  from  which  it  cannot  be  separated. 

I  see  the  image,  i.e.  I  am  conscious  of  it ;  I  appre- 
hend both  its  existence  and  many  of  its  peculiarities, 
if  not  all.  Consequently  the  image,  so  far  as  seen,  is 
in  me.  In  fact,  to  say  that  the  image  is  in  me  or  in 
my  consciousness,  that  I  am  conscious  of  the  image,  or 
that  I  apprehend  it — these  are  expressions  between 
the  meanings  of  which  it  is  impossible  to  distinguish. 

The  image,  so  far  as  seen,  is  in  me  ;  more  exactly,  it  is 


32  The  Great  Problems 

a  constitutive  element  of  me.  I  am  not  a  sort  of 
receiver  into  which  one  can  put  things  that  would  be 
inside  it  without  forming  part  of  it.  And  "to  be  in 
me  "  has  no  intelligible  meaning  except  "  to  belong  to 
me,"  "  to  be  a  constituent  of  me."  In  considering  the 
appearance,  varying,  and  vanishing  of  an  image,  I  live 
these  immediately,  as  a  varying  of  myself.  Conse- 
quently the  image — this  same  image,  numerically  one — 
is  on  the  one  hand,  qua  seen,  a  constituent  of  me ;  on 
the  other  hand,  seen  or  not  seen,  it  is  a  constituent  of 
the  inkstand.  It  is  a  property  of  it,  variable  but  in- 
separably connected,  even  in  its  variations,  with  the 
other  properties  of  the  inkstand,  i.e.  of  a  body  which  has 
essentially  nothing  to  do  with  me,  as  I  might  have 
passed  my  whole  life  without  seeing  it. * 

C  is  a  body  or  system  of  bodies,  variable  and 
supposed  to  exist  or  vary  independently  of  any  subject. 
S  is  a  subject,  also  variable.  In  sequence  to  a  process 
constituted  by  certain  variations  of  C,  or  of  S,  or  of 
both,  S  apprehends  or  becomes  aware  of  a  property  of 
C.  This,  while  it  was  and  remains  a  constituent  of  C, 
becomes  a  constituent  of  S,  and  remains  such  while  S 
remains  aware  of  it  or  as  long  as  that  process  remains  in 
which  sense-perception  consists. 

So  far  as  the  property  is  in  the  consciousness  of  S, 
we  shall  call  it  in  general  a  "sense-percept"  or  a 
"  content  of  sensation."  So  far  as  it  is  simply  a  con- 
stituent of  C,  we  shall  call  it  a  "sense-perceivable." 
It  is  understood  that  a  perceivable  becoming  a  percept 
remains  the  same,  both  numerically  and  (with  some 
restrictions  to  be  noticed  later)  qualitatively."  All  this 
should  be  made  quite  clear  and  rigorously  discussed. 

1   What  we  have  said  of  seeing  may  be  said  also  of  touching,  hearing, 
&c.,  and  in  general  of  sense-perception. 

1  E.y.  the  ball  is,  as  I  suu  it,  white  and  spherical. 


Sense-Perception  33 

II 

The  sense-percept  is,  we  said,  a  constituent  of  the 
subject,  so  that  every  variation  of  the  one  is  a  varia- 
tion of  the  other.  But  the  constituents  of  the  p^  notion 
subject  are  not  sense-percepts  alone  ;  feelings,  j^®  *" **£* : 
remembrances,  volitions,  &c.,  are  always  united  Bciousne»* 
with  them.  These  elements  are  very  diverse,  both 
in  quality  and  value.  The  difference  of  quality  between 
a  sense-percept  and  a  desire  is  only  too  evident — e.g. 
between  a  sound  and  the  desire  to  take  two  steps.  So  too 
is  the  difference  between  two  sense-percepts,  e.g.  between 
a  sound  and  a  vision,  or  between  two  desires,  &c.  The 
same  may  be  said  of  the  difference  of  value — e.g.  between 
an  indifferent  sense-percept  such  as  the  fugitive  image 
of  a  bird  passing  before  the  window,  which  we  scarcely 
apprehend  at  all,  and  the  most  painful  remembrance  of 
a  catastrophe  which  has  shattered  our  peace  for  ever. 
But  all  are  alike  facts  of  consciousness,  elements  of 
consciousness,  and  of  the  subject,  so  far  as  he  is  aware  of 
them — all,  even  the  least  noticeable,  or  none,  even  the 
most  noticeable,  are  constituents  of  the  subject. 

The  varying  of  an  element  is  always  a  varying  of  the 
subject.  But  if,  as  is  most  commonly  the  case,  the  element 
which  varies  is  of  little  value,  the  corresponding  varia- 
tion of  the  subject  will  also  be  of  little  value.  It  follows 
therefore  that  the  variation  seems  to  us  to  take  place 
in  what  we  apprehend,  and  not  in  ourselves  who  are 
apprehending  it.  We  do  not  reflect  that  what  we 
apprehend  and  we  who  apprehend  it  are  ununi  et  idem. 
To  prove  that  these  are  identical  we  have  only  to  con- 
sider that,  if  each  of  the  elements  or  facts  which  we  per- 
ceive were  to  vanish,  we  should  no  longer  apprehend 
anything,  or,  rather,  we  should  no  longer  be  apprehend- 
ing, for  apprehension  is  always  apprehension  of  something. 


34  The  Great  Problems 

In  other  words,  the  disappearance  of  all  the  elements 
would  be  a  disappearance  of  ourselves  as  subjects  aware 
of  them ;  consequently  the  elements  are  essential  con- 
stituents of  us  as  subjects. 

For  a  subject  to  exist,  it  is  clearly  not  enough  that 
there  should  be  any  number  or  kind  whatever  of  the 
above-mentioned  constituent  elements.  Titius  desires  to 
have  breakfast ;  Sempronius  sees  himself  before  a  break- 
fast ready  prepared  ;  Caius  remembers  an  appointment 
made.  Here  are  three  facts  of  consciousness,  but  of 
separate  consciousnesses.  For  a  subject  to  exist,  certain 
elements  must  exist  (or  occur),  and  there  must  be  one 
and  the  same  consciousness  of  them  all,  i.e.  the  elements 
must  be  connected  in  the  unity  of  a  consciousness. 

Of  the  subject  we  do  not  give — nor  is  it  possible 
to  give — a  definition  or  an  explanation  in  these  terms. 
But  by  reducing  it  to  the  unity  of  certain  constituent 
elements,  we  render  it  more  evident  how  these  elements 
are  truly  constitutive  of  the  subject.  The  unity,  so  far  as 
conscious,  is  not  a  distinct  element  different  from  those 
connected  in  it.  It  vanishes  with  them,  and  in  short 
seems  to  be  a  relation  of  the  elements  among  themselves. 
Concerning  the  conditions  which  ensure  the  constitu- 
tion of  the  subject's  unity  by  certain  elements  for  the 
moment  we  say  nothing. 

The  unity  is  not  absolutely  comparable  to  what  in 
mechanics  and  physics  is  called  a  "resultant."  In  the 
first  place,  certain  elements  presuppose  a  subject  already 
in  existence.  In  the  second  place — in  relation  to  the 
sense-perceivables  supposed  to  exist  outside  every  subject 
—the  resultant  of  two  sounds  is  a  third  sound  different 
from  the  two  combined,  and  so  too  of  two  colours,  &c.,  or 
of  two  movements,  where  the  unity  allows  the  single 
elements,  of  which  it  is  the  unity,  to  subsist.' 

1  All  questions  regarding  the  origin  of  the  subject  remain  unprejudiced. 


Sense-Perception  35 


III 

What  is  a  body  ?     If  we  abstract  from  physical  or 
philosophical    theories,    the    value    of    which    may   be 
questioned,  and  take  our  stand  simply  on  that    F^t  notion 
which  we  know  from  what  is  given  in  sense  - 
perception,  we  must  answer  that  a  body  is  a  group  of 
sense-perceivables   so  bound  together  as  to  constitute 
a  certain  unity. 

The  unity  of  sense-perceivables  of  which  a  body 
is  constituted  is  totally  different  from  the  unity  of 
elements  of  which  a  subject  is  constituted.  In  the  first 
place,  the  elements  of  a  subject  can  never  be  reduced 
to  sense-percepts  alone.  As  we  noted  above,1  an  element 
is  the  same — with  certain  restrictions  of  which  we  shall 
treat — whether  as  sense- perceivable  or  as  sense-percept, 
i.e.  whether  as  constituent  of  a  body  or  as  constituent  of 
a  subject  respectively.  The  red  which  I  see  is  the  red 
of  the  flower.  In  the  second  place,  the  sense-perceivables 
constituting  a  body  are  never  all  perceived  simultaneously 
by  a  subject.  For  then  the  body,  as  such,  in  its  con- 
creteness  and  integrity,  would  be  an  element,  a  con- 
stituent, of  the  subject.  In  the  third  place,  the  unity 
which  binds  together  the  sense-percepts  among  them- 
selves— and  with  elements  of  a  different  nature — in  the 
subject  is  unity  of  consciousness.  It  consists  in  apprehen- 
sion, which  is  one  and  the  same  in  spite  of  its  multi- 
plicity and  variety. 

That  which  binds  together  the  sense-perceivables 
constituting  a  body  can  be  reduced  to  a  law  in  virtue  of 
which  one  of  those  perceivables  cannot  vary  in  a  certain 
way  without  others — or  rather,  without  all "  the  others 

1  Section  1. 

2  That  is  why  they  are  said  to  be  grouped  together. 


36  The  Great  Problems 

— varying  correlatively  in  a  certain  way.  Permanence 
— which  is  never  absolute — must  be  considered  as  a 
very  slow  variation.  Bodily  existence,  and  analogously 
the  existence  of  a  system  of  bodies  or  the  material  world, 
means  the  existence  of  sense-perceivables  bound  together 
in  respect  to  their  variation  by  certain  laws. 

A  solid  body  has  a  certain  shape — a  visible  surface 
enclosing  a  determinate  space.  If  I  try  to  introduce  my 
hand  into  this  space,  I  fail ;  I  experience  a  resistance. 
If  the  bounding  surface  of  the  body  moves  in  optical 
space,  the  place  where  the  resistance  makes  itself 
perceived  moves  equally.  If  I  warm  the  body,  its 
volume,  and  hence  also  its  shape,  varies.  A  larger 
sphere  has  not,  strictly  speaking,  the  same  shape  as  a 
smaller,  being  less  curved.  Its  shape  may  also  undergo 
more  profound  variations ;  if  the  body  is  not  equally  ex- 
pansible in  every  direction,  it  may  become  e.g.  ellipsoidal 
instead  of  spherical.  Further,  the  body  becomes  less  re- 
sistant, finishes  by  becoming  luminous,  &c.,  &c.  To  con- 
struct the  science  of  Nature  means  to  discover  the  laws 
by  which  certain  groups  of  sense-perceivables,  or  groups 
of  groups,  are  constituted,  and  according  to  which  they 
vary. 

A  law  is  not  a  sense-perceivable.  Hence  to  recog- 
nise the  unity  of  a  body,  and  to  distinguish  it  from 
a  collection  of  disunited  sense-perceivables '  which 
present  themselves  by  chance  to  consciousness  together, 
cannot  be  achieved  by  the  subject  along  the  path  of 
sense-perception  alone.  It  is,  however,  true  that  the 
laws  of  facts  make  some  impression  also  on  the  con- 
sciousness of  a  subject  who  cannot  formulate  them  ;  that 
is  why  brute  beasts  often  behave  as  if  they  had  our 
scientific  knowledge.  But  between  such  an  impression 
of  the  law  and  its  formulation  there  is  a  wide  gulf. 

1  Such  as  the  shape  of  one  V>ody  and  the  temperature  of  smother. 


Sense- Percept  ion  37 

Sense-perceivables  never  present  themselves  separ- 
ately, but  always  bound  together  in  the  unities  which 
are  bodies.  Consequently  we  who  can  comprehend  the 
unity,  though  we  cannot  completely  formulate  the  law 
which  makes  it  exist,  consider  sense-perceivables  as 
properties  of  bodies,  and  recognise  in  every  body  a 
substance  in  which  the  properties  inhere.  This  shows 
how  a  certain  manner  of  seeing  is  justified,  and  also  the 
traditional  doctrine  which  makes  substance  only  think- 
able, not  perceivable  by  the  senses. 

It  remains  true  that  if  the  sense-perceivables  con- 
stituting a  body — its  properties — were  to  vanish,  the 
body  also  would  vanish,  and  that  their  unity  is  not  an 
element  apart,  united  to  the  perceivables  something 
like  the  rope  by  which  a  number  of  rods  are  tied  in  a 
bundle.  For  in  that  case  either  it  also  would  be  a 
sense-perceivable,  or  no  one  would  be  able  to  say  that  it 
existed.  It  is,  however,  only  a  relation  of  the  sense-per- 
ceivables with  one  another. 

Let  us  add  that,  in  spite  of  the  above-mentioned 
irreducible  differences  between  a  subject  and  a  body, 
certain  analogies  between  them  are  clear.  Each  of  them 
is  a  unity  of  many  factual  elements  bound  together  by 
a  rational  relation  or  law  :  unities  specifically  diverse, 
but  still  unities. 

IV 

According  to  the  doctrine  expressed,  the  same  sense- 
perceivable  might  at  one  and  the  same  time  become 
an  element  of  any  number  of  subiects,  and 

J  .    ,         .  J  The  percei- 

every    sense  -  percept    might    in    general    be    vabies  as 

.     &  elements 

common    to    many  subiects.     Maiiy  thinkers    wwcncan 

...  be  common 

are,    however,    opposed    to    this    view,    and    to  several 

•     ,     •         ,,  .  subjects. 

maintain    that    a    sense-percept    is    never    an 

element  except  of  one  determinate   subject — that  it  is 


38  The  Great  Problems 

always  a  fact  of  consciousness  exclusively  of  one  sub- 
ject. A  percept  of  Titius  and  a  percept  of  Sempronius 
are  always  two;  they  may  be  equivalent,  but  in  no 
case  can  they  be  reduced  to  one  only.  At  the  first 
glance  this  opinion  seems  self-evident.  Of  two  images, 
of  which  one  is  in  the  consciousness  of  Titius  while 
the  other  is  in  the  consciousness  of  Sempronius,  it 
appears  absurd  to  deny  or  even  to  doubt  that  they 
are  two.  Yet  if  we  accept  an  opinion  apparently  so 
obvious,  an  undoubted  fact  becomes  inexplicable,  or, 
rather,  quite  impossible.  Titius  is  in  Italy,  Sempronius 
in  South  America.  The  elements  from  which  the  per- 
cept of  Titius  results  are  for  the  most  part  undoubtedly 
different  from  the  elements  from  which  the  percept  of 
Sempronius  results ;  perhaps  there  is  not  one  element 
really  common  to  both.  However,  the  two  are  con 
vinced  that  they  live  in  one  and  the  same  world.  Sem- 
pronius can,  in  fact,  return  from  South  America  to 
Italy.  Suppose  him  returned  ;  let  him  live  in  the  same 
city,  the  same  house,  as  Titius;  let  them  be  always 
together  like  husband  and  wife  :  what  difference  does 
it  make  if  the  sense-percept  of  the  one  and  the  sense- 
percept  of  the  other  are  always  absolutely  distinct  ?— 
if  that  of  which  the  one  is  aware  is  not  that  of  which 
the  other  is  aware?  Were  the  opinion  under  discussion 
sound,  Titius  and  Sempronius,  though  always  together, 
would  live  each  in  a  world  exclusively  his  own,  with- 
out any  sort  of  communication  with  the  world  lived 
in  by  the  other. 

The  real  world,  it  will  be  answered,  is  one  alone, 
the  same  for  all ;  the  percepts  of  the  world,  as  percepts, 
are  as  many  as  there  are  subjects.  Let  us  see.  1 
have  a  certain  optical  image ;  in  everyday  language, 
1  see  my  inkstand.  It  might  be  said,  in  the  first  place, 
that  the  having  the  image  is  my  having  a  conscious- 


Sense-Perception  39 

ness  of  the  real  inkstand — or,  more  strictly,  of  some 
of  its  characteristics.  «  In  the  second  place,  that  the 
existence  of  the  inkstand  consists  in  my  having  the 
said  image.  Thirdly  and  finally,  it  might  be  said  that 
the  inkstand  and  the  image  are  distinct  things  with- 
out anything  in  common,  bound  together  by  a  relation 
—the  relation  of  cause  and  effect.  Someone  else  who 
is  here  in  my  study  also  sees  my  inkstand.  To  simplify 
matters,  let  us  neglect  the  non-essential  circumstance 
that  he  and  I  see  the  inkstand  from  two  different 
points  of  view. 

There  are  three  hypotheses  under  consideration. 
On  the  first,  each  of  us  has  consciousness  of  the  ink- 
stand, which  is  one  only.  His  percept  and  my  percept 
are  one  only,  because  there  is  a  percept  which  is  his 
and  a  percept  which  is  mine  only  so  far  as  he  and 
I  are  aware  of  one  and  the  same  perceivable.  On  the 
second  hypothesis,  the  things  being  reduced  to  images, 
either  there  is  only  one  image  of  the  inkstand — of 
which  we  are  both  aware — or  we  must  say  that  there 
are  two  inkstands — which  is  absurd.  There  remains  the 
third  hypothesis.  It  is  quite  evident  that  in  practical 
life  we  regulate  ourselves  according  to  our  percepts, 
and  make  no  guesses  at  their  causes.  The  causes  about 
which  we  do  busy  ourselves  are  the  laws  which  regulate 
the  succession  of  percepts  and  perceivables,  not  those 
which  unite  the  percepts  to  unknown  elements  which 
cannot  be  observed.  Hence  it  follows  that  the  hypo- 
thetical identity  of  the  said  hypothetical  causes  cannot 
have  any  influence  on  practice.  Titius  and  Sempronius 
see  the  same  street  in  which  both  are  walking,  avoid 
the  same  carriages,  perceive  the  same  noises,  &c.  This 
means  that  their  sense -percepts  are  fundamentally  the 
same  for  both.  I  do  not  say  they  are  absolutely  the 
same. 


4°  The  Great  Problems 


Let  us  pause  a  while  over  the  hypothesis — now  clearly 
seen  to  be  such — that  the  percept  is  exclusively  peculiar 
The  same  to  that  subject  by  which  it  is  perceived,  a 
modification  of  the  subject  determined  in  it 
^y  the  action  of  an  external  cause. 

I  imprint  my  seal  on  a  piece  of  wax.  The 
imprint  and  the  form  of  the  seal  are  two  different 
things.  I  who  see  them  both  recognise  that  they  are 
equivalent.  But  what  can  the  wax  know,  supposing 
it  to  possess  consciousness  ?  The  wax  perceives  the  seal 
in  so  far  as  it  has  consciousness  of  that  state  of  its  own 
which  is  the  imprint ;  the  seal  remains  outside  its  con- 
sciousness. Hence  the  wax  will  never  know  to  all 
eternity  whether  the  impression  is  or  is  not  similar  to 
the  form  of  the  seal.  Will  it  know  that  there  is  a 
correspondence  between  the  imprint  and  the  qualities 
of  the  external  determining  cause  ?  Let  it  be  so  for 
the  moment.  No  one  will  deny  that  the  hypothesis 
is  assuming  an  air  of  great  extravagance.  The  inkstand 
which  I  see  appears  to  me  to  be  the  real  inkstand,  or 
in  other  words  the  seen  inkstand  1  is  my  sole  motive 
for  admitting  the  existence  of  a  real  inkstand.  On  the 
other  hand,  for  the  hypothesis  under  consideration,  my 
representation  of  a  real  inkstand  would  be  a  psychical 
phenomenon  exclusively  mine,  the  representation  in  me 
of  a  real  inkstand  independent  of  me,  because  and  in 
so  far  as  I  might  know  that  there  existed  a  cause  x  of 
my  representation  endowed  with  certain  qualities  y,  z, 
corresponding  to  the  qualities  of  the  representation. 
But  as  regards  this,  which  I  ought  to  know,  I — simply 

1  In  "  the  seen  inkstand  "  I  include  the  parts  actually  not  seen,  which  1 
can  touch,  &c. 


Sense-Perception  41 

as  a  man,  neglecting  my  philosophical  opinions — know 
literally  nothing. 

Again,  I  imprint  my  seal  on  two  pieces  of  wax, 
assumed  to  possess  consciousness.  The  imprints  are 
equivalent,  but  distinct.  They  are  two.  How  does  one 
piece  know  that  the  other  has  an  imprint  equivalent 
to  its  own  ?  According  to  the  hypothesis,  it  can  only 
know  that  if  the  other  imprints  its  figure  on  it. 
Without  inquiring  if  the  thing  be  possible  in  dealing 
with  subjects  and  psychical  phenomena  peculiar  to  each 
exclusively,  let  us  grant  that  it  has  taken  place.  The 
first  piece  will  have  a  new  imprint  and  will  know  that 
there  is  an  unknown  cause  of  this,  with  unknown 
qualities  corresponding  to  the  characteristics  of  the 
imprint.  But  this  is  not  to  know  that  there  is  another 
piece  of  wax  on  which  the  same  seal  that  has  left  the 
imprint  on  the  first  has  left  an  equivalent  imprint. 
Metaphor  apart,  if  the  hypothesis  were  true,  I  ought 
not  to  know  anything  of  other  subjects  analogous  to 
myself,  representing  to  themselves  the  same  worth 
which  I  represent  to  myself. 

According  to  the  hypothesis  under  discussion,  the 
external  cause  of  the  percepts  would  determine  them 
in  the  subject  as  modifications  of  the  subject.1  Many 
believe,  however,  that  this  external  cause  is  to  be  con- 
ceived as  a  system  of  bodies  possessing  the  primary 
qualities  of  extension,  figure,  impenetrability,  motion, 
&c.,  but  without  the  secondary  qualities  of  light,  heat, 
sound,  &c.  The  reason  given  is  that  the  secondary 
qualities  are  clearly  sense-percepts,  and  belong  not 
to  the  external  cause  but  to  the  subject,  as  modifications 
of  the  subject.  There  is  a  mistake  here.  Granting 
there  could  be  an  external  cause  of  the  percepts  in 
the  sense  indicated,  this  would  necessarily  remain 

1  Or  "imprints"  in  the  subject. 


42  The  Great  Problems 

absolutely  unknown.  For  extension,  figure,  impenetra- 
bility, motion,  &c.,  would  be  sensible  qualities  every 
bit  as  much  as  light,  heat,  sound,  &c. ;  and  if  it  is 
recognised  that  the  external  cause  is  without  secondary 
qualities,  it  would  be  without  primary  qualities  also, 
and  that  for  precisely  the  same  reason. 

If  by  "external  cause"  we  understand  the  cause  of 
our  percepts,  this  must  remain  absolutely  unknown. 
According  to  the  hypothesis  under  consideration,  the 
percepts  would  be  "imprints" — simple  effects  of  the 
action  of  this  "  cause "  on  the  subject.  We  too  admit 
an  external  cause  as  conditioning  this  process,  of  sense- 
perception.  But  the  effect  of  such  a  cause  as  we  also 
would  admit  J£  not  the  production  of  "  imprints "  as 
simple  modifications  of  the  subjects,  but  sense-perception 
as  a  process  in  which  perceivables  become  percepts  by 
being  included  in  the  subject's  consciousness.  We  have 
said  that  the  "external  cause"  of  the  hypothesis  must 
be  absolutely  unknown.  We  might  have  said  with 
greater  exactitude  that  there  is  no  reason  to  assume 
such  a  cause.  In  sense-perception  I  undergo  violence  ; 
i.e.  the  percept  is  realised  in  me  even  if  I  do  not  wish 
it,  and  is  not  realised  simply  because  I  do  wish 
it.  Every  percept  depends  for  its  realisation  and  for 
its  characteristics  on  antecedents  and  simultaneities 
according  to  fixed  laws.  These  laws,  over  which  my 
will  has  no  power,  bind  together  sense-percepts,  i.e. 
according  to  the  hypothesis  certain  modifications  of 
myself,  certain  facts  of  the  personal  consciousness  ex- 
clusively mine.  Nothing  can  authorise  me  to  suppose— 
and  one  cannot  imagine  how  such  a  notion  came  into 
my  mind — that  the  said  laws  ought  to  have  a  foundation 
in  a  reality  distinct  from  my  own  personality.  If  the 
hypothesis  were  true  I  should  be  absolutely  enclosed  in 
myself.  Solipsism  would  be  not  only  the  only  philosophy 


Sense- Perception  43 

that  one  could  maintain,  but  the  only  opinion  that  any- 
one could  possibly  conceive. 


VI 

In  all  sense-perception  there  is  the  percept  and  the 
perceiving.  I  see  the  blue  of  the  sky — there  is  the 
blue  seen,  and  the  fact  that  I  see  that  blue.  . 

Tne  process 

It  is  quite  evident  that  the  percept  as  percept  of  sense-per- 
is  not   separable    from   the    perceiving — the  passivity  and 

Ul  1,1  u  ?  •  receptivity. 

blue  is  not  a  blue  seen  by  me,  except  in  so 
far  as  I  see  it.  But  the  impossibility  of  separating  the 
two  facts  does  not  exclude  the  possibility  of  distinguish- 
ing them.  Or  rather  it  is  necessary  to  distinguish  them 
unless  we  wish  to  make  confusions  which  may  easily 
degenerate  into  errors.  The  hypothesis  which  we  have 
discussed  and  confuted  had  its  root  in  the  confusion 
between  percept  and  perceiving ;  sense-perception  was 
spoken  of  without  distinction  of  its  two  different 
elements. 

Perceiving  by  the  senses  is  a  process  by  which 
certain  perceivables  become  what  they  formerly  were 
not — elements  also  of  a  determinate  subject.  I  was  not 
conscious  of  a  form  or  colour  before  I  saw  it,  I  am 
conscious  of  it  while  I  see  it,  I  shall  no  longer  be  con- 
scious of  it  when  I  have  ceased  to  see  it — neglecting 
recollection,  of  which  I  am  not  now  speaking.  Further, 
perceiving  by  the  senses  is  a  fact  exclusively  peculiar 
to  that  determinate  subject, — in  which  that  subject 
undergoes  the  action  of  an  external  cause  :  i.e.  a  fact 

o 

bound    by   fixed  laws    to   variations  which   take    place 
outside  the  subject. 

Perceiving  by  the  senses  is  exclusively  peculiar  to  a 
determinate  subject.  The  blue  of  the  sky — a  single 
self- identical  perceivable — can  become  an  element  of 


44  The  Great  Problems 

Titius  as  well  as  of  Sempronius.  But  for  it  to  become 
an  element  of  both,  both  must  see  it,  and  that  of  which 
both  are  now  conscious  is  one  and  the  same  thing.  But 
Titius'  having  been  rendered  conscious  of  it,  and  Sem- 
pronius' having  been  rendered  conscious  of  it,  are  two 
distinct  facts — one  of  Titius,  the  other  of  Sempronius. 

In  perceiving  by  the  senses  the  subject  is  passive— 
I  do  not  say  passive  only.  While  I  am  in  the  dark 
with  my  eyes  open,  someone  lights  a  candle.  Immed- 
iately, without  my  desiring  it  and  even  if  I  do  not 
desire  it,  my  consciousness  is  invaded  by  a  multitude  of 
optical  images.  I  find  myself  therefore  in  a  state 
different  from  my  former  one ;  I  have  suffered  a  shock. 
Anyone  else  in  the  same  room  also  suffers  a  shock. 
The  shock  which  he  suffers  and  that  which  I  suffer  are 
two  shocks — two  variations,  the  one  of  me,  the  other  of 
my  companion,  not  one  variation  alone.  Yet  my  varia- 
tion consists  in  my  having  become  conscious  of  certain 
images  and  my  companion's  variation  consists  in  his 
having  become  conscious  of  the  same  images.  It  does 
not  follow  from  the  passivity  involved  in  sense-perception 
that  the  percept  is  a  sort  of  imprint  produced  in  the 
subject  by  an  external  cause.  The  exclusiveness  of 
perceiving  does  not  exclude  the  possible  community  of 
the  percept.  If  we  distinguish  as  we  ought  between 
the  percept  and  the  perceiving,  the  difficulties  which 
seem  to  oppose  themselves  to  the  doctrine  set  forth 
vanish. 

Facts  exclusively  mine  are,  for  instance,  my  pleasures 
and  my  pains ;  these  are  never  common  to  two  subjects, 
though  two  subjects  may  have  similar  ones.  It  is 
quite  clear  that  pleasures  and  pains  only  depend  upon 
our  will  up  to  a  certain  point ;  this,  however,  does  not 
prevent  us  from  recognising  in  pleasures  and  pains 
modes  of  ours  of  existing.  Consequently  if  our  life 


Sense- Percept  ion  45 

could  be  resolved  into  pleasures  and  pains,  none  of  us 
would  know  anything  of  an  external  reality.  All  that 
we  know  of  external  reality  we  know  because  we  have 
sense-percepts  in  us.  If,  however,  a  percept  were  like 
a  feeling — a  "something"  exclusively  peculiar  to  the 
subject — if  it  were  in  substance  a  feeling  with  certain 
indifferent  characteristics  in  place  of  the  tonality  of 
pleasure  and  pain,  it  would  be,  like  pure  feeling,  un- 
suited  to  make  us  pass  beyond  the  exclusively  subjective 
field. 


VII 

The  doctrine  which  we  have  accepted  and  rapidly 
summarised  is  in  perfect  agreement  with  common  sense 
(vulgar   realism).      It    is   only   distinguished  Tnedoctrine 
from  common  sense  by  a  more  distinct  con-  expounded 

*  .  and  common 

sciousness  and  by  a  more  rigorous  coherence,  aense.   -rue 

mi  T  i  external 

I  he  ordinary  man  does  not  suppose  that  a  worm  as  a 
flower  is  an  absolutely  unknown  x  which  pro-  facts  of  con- 

,  ...  .  r>         i  1*1        sciousness. 

duces  in  him  a  sensation  of  red  exclusively 
peculiar  to  him.  He  believes  that  the  red  he  sees  is 
the  same  as  that  seen  by  another,  and  that  it  is  a 
quality  of  the  flower.  In  that  of  which  the  ordinary 
man  is  persuaded,  two  persuasions  are  implicit — only 
implicit,  but  undeniably  implicit — (1)  That  one  and 
the  same  sense-percept  may  exist  at  the  same  time  in 
the  consciousness  of  any  number  of  subjects,  and  (2) 
that  a  sense-percept  cannot  differ,  either  qualitatively 
or  numerically,  from  a  sense-perceivable.  He  believes 
that  the  perceivable  exists  even  when  not  perceived,  and 
does  not  necessarily  vary  in  becoming  perceived  ;  for  its 
becoming  perceived  is  only  its  being  included  in  the 
unity  of  consciousness  of  a  subject. 

If  a  perceivable  can  become  perceived  without  there- 


46  The  Great  Problems 

fore  undergoing  an  intrinsic  variation  ;  and  if  it  is  clearly 
a  fact  of  consciousness  when  it  is  perceived,  then  it  will 
be  a  fact  of  consciousness  also  when  it  is  not  perceived 
— i.e.  it  will  be  a  fact  of  consciousness  as  a  perceivable, 
as  a  quality  of  a  body.  This  conclusion,  which  we 
see  is  implicit  in  ordinary  opinion,  will  not  be  easily 
admitted  or  understood  by  one  who  has  no  philosophic 
preparation.  But  that  is  because,  when  we  speak  of 
"  consciousness,"  we  think  immediately  of  that  complex 
of  psychical  facts  from  which  our  consciousness  results, 
and  from  which  we  suppose  that  the  consciousness  of  an 
animal  results.  A  flower,  a  billiard  ball,  a  mountain, 
if  they  are  groups  of  facts  of  consciousness,  ought  to 
be  so  many  animals ;  at  least  most  people  think  so. 
But  let  us  consider.  An  animal  is  a  group  not  of  per- 
cepts alone,  but  of  facts  of  another  kind  also — feelings, 
recollections,  &c.,  exclusively  peculiar  to  that  animal. 
Further,  in  the  animal  consciousness  perceivables  also 
are  included,  i.e.  as  percepts.  There  they  constitute  a 
group  very  different  from  the  groups  which  are  bodies— 
a  group  sui  generis,  the  unity  of  consciousness  peculiar 
exclusively  to  that  individual  animal.  If  the  complex 
of  perceivables  from  which  a  flower  results  were  a 
species  of  unity  of  consciousness,  it  would  not  fall  into 
my  consciousness.  But  it  does  so  fall.  If  the  red  of  the 
flower  were  something  like  a  feeling — of  the  flower- 
it  would  be  outside  my  consciousness.  But  I  see  it. 
I  see  the  flower,  I  touch  it,  &c.  The  elements  which 
I  apprehend  by  seeing  or  touching  it  are  tacts  of  con- 
sciousness— of  my  consciousness.  They  are  also  qualities 
of  the  flower;  for  it  would  be  nonsense  to  say  (1)  that 
I  see  the  red  of  the  flower,  but  (2)  that  the  reel  which 
I  see  is  not  the  red  of  the  flower.  It  follows  that  the 
flower  is  nothing  but  a  group  of  facts  of  consciousness. 
This  conclusion,  to  which  we  are  conducted  by  sense- 


Sense- Perception  47 

perceiving,  has  nothing  to  do  with  a  supposition  to 
which  sense-perceiving  neither  conducts  nor  could  con- 
duct us — the  totally  unjustified  supposition  that  the 
flower  has  unity  of  consciousness,  feelings,  &c. — i.e.  that 
it  is  a  species  of  animal.  We  perceive  bodies  by  the 
senses ;  they  result  therefore  from  sense-perceivables. 
But  we  have  no  reason  to  suppose  that  those  facts  of 
consciousness  which  are  sense-perceivables — which  can 
be  common  to  many  subjects,  and  to  bodies  as  well  as 
subjects — are  associated  in  bodies  with  facts  of  ex- 
clusively subjective  consciousness.  Resolving  bodies 
into  facts  of  consciousness,  but  only  into  those  facts 
of  consciousness  which  are  sense-perceivables,  leaves 
intact  the  distinction  between  the  animate  and  the 
inanimate  world. 

What  makes  it  so  difficult  for  common  sense  to  re- 
cognise in  bodies  complexes  of  facts  of  consciousness  is 
the  habit  contracted  of  seeing  in  "  consciousness  "  only 
feelings,  desires,  recollections,  &c.  We  include  in  "  con- 
sciousness "  seeings,  touchings,  &c.,  too,  but  as  acts  of 
ours.  The  percepts  we  forget,  because  (we  think)  per- 
cepts are  "things"  altogether  different  from  ourselves. 
And  it  is  most  true  that  "  things  "  differ  entirely  from 
us ;  they  have  no  feelings,  desires,  recollections,  seeings, 
or  touchings  ;  they  have  no  consciousness  which  includes 
percepts.  But  they  consist  of  elements  which  can  be 
included  in  our  consciousness,  elements  which  can  unite 
themselves  in  our  consciousness  with  those  acts  of  ours 
which  are  seeings,  touchings,  &c.,  so  as  to  constitute 
with  them  inseparable  unities.  Consequently  the  ele- 
ments from  which  "  things  "  result  are  facts  of  conscious- 
ness, of  a  consciousness  which  has  nothing  mysterious, 
extraneous  to  ourselves— there  is  nothing  so  familiar 
as  percepts.  Yet  it  is  not  the  consciousness,  one  and 
various,  which  constitutes  a  subject. 


48  The  Great  Problems 


VIII 

It  is  important  for  the  reader  to  have  a  clear  idea 
of  the  problem  we  are  studying  and  of  the  way  in  which 
we  are  studying  it.  The  problem  concerns 
'  the  relations  which  take  place  between  the 
group  offsets  subject  and  external  extended  reality.  In 
i£0d£-  order  to  discuss  this  problem  we  clearly  must 
have,  to  start  with,  some  notion  not  only 
of  the  reality,  but  also  of  the  subject.  The 
subject  is  the  unity  of  certain  percepts,  i.e.  it  is  sen- 
tient. This  is  certain  •  but  it  is  no  less  certain  that 
the  subject,  considered  by  us  here  as  sentient  only, 
is  not  sentient  only.  Our  investigation  thus  meets  a 
first  difficulty — a  difficulty  which  we  cannot  overcome 
without  anticipating  to  some  extent  doctrines  which 
will  be  developed  later,  and  which  at  present  are  in 
course  of  preparation.  As  to  external  extended  reality, 
the  opinion  most  commonly  received  is  that  it  is  inde- 
pendent of  the  subject,  and  that  its  variations  de- 
termine causally  the  subjective  sensations,  in  much  the 
same  way  as  these  are  determined  causally  among  them- 
selves. We  do  not  assume  that  this  view  is  false — but 
neither  can  we  assume  that  it  is  true.  If  we  wish  to 
build  up  a  theory,  we  must  not  assume  one  ;  and  the 
view  in  question  does  imply  a  theory  about  the  reality. 
We  must  base  ourselves  simply  on  tact.  Our  starting- 
point  is,  of  course,  not  "  fact  in  itself,"  but  fact  as  the 
thinking  subject  represents  it  to  itself — known  fact. 
We  must  refrain  from  any  theory  which  goes  beyond 
the  fact,  from  all  hypothetical  explanation ;  we  must 
take  our  stand  upon  the  common  knowledge  alone 
which  serves  as  necessary  basis  to  all  explanation. 

But    the    reader   not   only    possesses    this    common 


Sense- Perception  49 

knowledge  ;  he  has  a  theory  as  well,  and  a  theory  which 
he  holds  to  be  true.  It  is  penetrated  through  and 
through  with  this  common  knowledge,  so  that  it  is 
not  easy  to  distinguish  the  one  from  the  other.  If 
we  invite  our  readers  to  refrain  from  the  theory  in 
order  to  hold  to  the  common  fundamental  knowledge, 
more  than  one  of  them  will  fail  perhaps  to  realise  quite 
what  the  invitation  means.  The  pure  and  simple  ex- 
position of  the  fact  will  appear  to  them  a  theory,  ex- 
planatory, hypothetical,  strange — precisely  because  they 
have  grown  accustomed  to  considering  as  "fact"  fact 
as  interpreted  in  the  light  of  their  own  theory.  Here 
is  a  further  difficulty,  due  to  the  mental  habits  of  our 
readers,  but  none  the  less  serious  on  that  account. 

We  too  have  a  theory  which  seeks  to  explain ;  but 
we  propose  at  present  not  to  expound  it,  but  to  prepare 
the  way  for  it.  For  this  purpose  we  must — as  men- 
tioned above — take  our  stand  simply  on  fact.  Let  us 
come  to  the  fact,  and  let  those  who  have  already 
understood  bear  with  us  if  we  repeat  ourselves.  Titius 
and  Sempronius  see  the  self-same  inkstand.  Let  us 
abstract  from  the  hypothesis  of  an  inkstand  "  in  itself," 
which  is  supposed  to  cause  the  optical  sensations  of 
Titius  and  Sempronius.  Titius  sees  something — say,  a  ; 
Sempronius  sees  something — say,  b ;  the  two  optical 
images  a  and  b  are  riot  exactly  identical — but  they  are 
alike.  We  will  discuss  the  question,  how  they  would 
become  identical,  and  will  leave  out  of  consideration  the 
possibility  of  optical  images  becoming  associated  l  with 
images  of  another  kind. 

What  is  the  inkstand  ?  Titius  bases  his  affirmation 
of  the  inkstand's  existence  primarily  on  his  knowledge 
of  a,  a  knowledge  which  becomes  wider  as  a  varies  in 
a  certain  manner,  in  connection  with  the  variation  of 

1  There  is  no  such  possibility,  for  instance,  in  tho  case  of  the  moon. 

D 


50  The  Great  Problems 

the  other  sense -percepts.  In  the  second  place,  he  bases 
his  affirmation  on  his  conviction  that,  apart  from  his 
own  knowledge  of  a  as  variable  in  the  said  manner, 
there  is,  or  can  be — under  certain  conditions  noted 
above — an  analogous  knowledge  on  the  part  of  Sem- 
pronius  also.  Apart  from  this  conviction,  Titius  would 
be  unable  to  affirm  that  the  existence  of  the  inkstand 
is  more  than  the  variable  a,  more  than  existence  for 
Titius  himself.  More  exactly,  such  an  affirmation 
would  be  meaningless. 

Of  the  existence  and  varying  of  a  and  b  under 
definite  conditions,  an  explanation  can  certainly  be 
asked.  It  will  be  found  by  the  construction  of  a  theory. 
The  theory  commonly  held  has  been  already  mentioned ; 
but,  as  noted,  we  ought  not  to  assume  either  this  or 
any  other  would-be  explanatory  theory  in  our  present 
undertaking,  for  we  are  here  undertaking  to  purify  the 
facts  which  are  to  serve  as  foundation  for  the  theory. 
The  images  a  and  b  are,  by  hypothesis,  identical.1  Let 
us  leave  on  one  side  for  the  moment  the  explanatory 
theory  that  a  and  b  are  to  be  referred  to  the  action  on 
the  two  subjects  of  one  and  the  same  inkstand  "  in 
itself."  Independently  of  this  or  any  other  explanatory 
theory,  the  fact  remains  that  (1)  each  of  the  two 
subjects,  in  addition  to  having  its  own  image,  knows 
that  an  identical  image  exists  in  the  other ;  and  (2) 
each  of  the  two  subjects  bases  upon  this  knowledge  its 
affirmation  of  the  existence  of  the  inkstand.  Nay,  such 
an  affirmation  on  the  part  of  one  subject  has  signifi- 
cance2 only  in  so  far  as  it  expresses  this  knowledge  (1) 
of  its  own  image,  and  (2)  of  the  identical  image  in  the 

1  At  least  partly  identical,  for  Titius  and  Sempronius  see  the  sunn; 
inkstand.  To  suppose  that  a  1>  is  the  same  as  to  take  account  only  of  those 
parts  of  a  and  b  which  are  identical. 

*  i.e.  immediate  significance  before  the  construction  of  an  explanatory 
theory. 


Sense- Perception  51 

other  subject.  The  result  of  these  simple  statements 
can  be  formulated  without  substantial  change  in  the 
affirmation  that  the  identical  images  a  and  6  can  be 
reduced  in  effect  to  a  single  image,  of  which,  however, 
there  are  two  distinct  consciousnesses.  If  Titius  be- 
lieved Sempronius's  image  to  be  another  one,  different 
from  his  own  though  equivalent  to  it,  he  would  believe 
—at  least  in  order  to  construct  an  explanatory  theory 
—that  the  inkstand  seen  by  Sempronius  is  another  one, 
different  from  the  one  seen  by  himself,  Titius,  though 
equivalent  to  it.  It  may  be  objected  that  further 
investigations  will  oblige  us  to  deny  this  singleness 
of  the  image.  Well,  we  will  deny  it.  Singleness  does 
not  constitute  an  explanation,  far  less  an  ultimate 
explanation.  If  we  refuse  to  assume  explanations  which 
can  be  challenged,  we  must  still  consider  the  singleness 
as  a  fact,  whether  explicable  or  not — perhaps  as  an 
illusion,  whether  this  can  be  overcome  or  not. 

Let  us  take  a  further  step.  A  fact  which  while 
remaining  one  and  the  same  realises  itself  in  two  or 
more  subjects  must  be  able  to  realise  itself  also  apart 
from  any  subject  whatever.  If  a  point  is  within  a 
sphere  with  centre  A,  and  also  within  a  sphere  with 
centre  B,  &c.  :  then  the  point's  existence  does  not 
consist  in  its  being  within  any  sphere  whatever.  Unity 
of  consciousness  conditions  the  inclusion  within  it  of  an 
actual  colour,  but  not  the  actualisation  of  the  colour  in 
the  world  of  fact.  It  is  true  that  pain  is  only  possible 
as  the  pain  of  a  determinate  subject,  but  that  is  because, 
as  noted  above,  pain  is  only  experienced  by  individual 
subjects ;  our  affliction  at  the  pain  of  others  is  never 
the  existence  of  one  and  the  same  pain  common  both 
to  the  others  and  to  ourselves.  But  pain  necessarily 
implies  a  manifold  of  psychical  facts  brought  together 
in  the  unity  of  a  consciousness.  The  word  "  pain " 


52  The  Great  Problems 

means  discord,  contradiction,  as  is  only  too  evident 
in  the  so-called  mental  pains,  and  equally — though  not 
so  obviously — true  in  the  so-called  physical  pains.  If  I 
cease  to  see,  hear,  think,  and  remember,  a  physical  pain 
of  mine  can  last — but  not  as  mine,  for  /  have  ceased 
to  exist.  It  continues  as  the  pain  of  a  subject,  of  the 
subject  which  survives  the  shipwreck  of  personality, 
where  it  is  the  awareness  of  discord  between  certain 
organic  functions.  It  is  true  that  seeing  belongs  to 
the  subject  only  so  far  as  it  is  associated,  in  the  unity 
of  a  consciousness,  with  other  seeings  and  with  facts 
of  a  different  sort.  But  seeing,  whether  elementary  or 
exact,  does  not  have  to  be  conditioned,  in  order  to 
realise  itself,  by  the  simultaneous  presence  of  other 
seeings  or  of  facts  associated  with  it  in  the  unity  of  a 
consciousness.  It  can  and  does  become  actual  outside 
of  such  a  connection  too.  It  is  then,  of  course,  no 
longer  the  seeing  of  a  subject,  and  yet  it  is  always 
that  same  fact,  which  will  become  the  seeing  of  a  sub- 
ject as  soon  as  the  above-mentioned  associations  take 
place ;  and  it  can,  in  virtue  of  its  own  nature,  become 
associated  indifferently  with  this  or  that  unity  or  with 
any  number  of  unities  whatever. 

I  do  not  assert  that  seeing,  outside  of  every  subject 
—that  is  to  say,  colour,  or,  generally  speaking,  the  sense- 
perceivable — can  realise  itself  outside  of  every  connec- 
tion, by  itself,  in  isolation.  Isolated  facts  do  not  take 
place.  But,  over  and  above  the  unities  of  consciousness 
which  are  subjects,  there  are  other  kinds  of  unities- 
there  are  the  groups  of  psychical  facts  which  are  bodies, 
and  above  all  there  is  the  greatest  unity — the  universe. 
Between  granting  no  facts  of  isolated  consciousness,  and 
granting  only  facts  of  a  consciousness  unified  in  some 
subject,  there  is  a  difference. 


Sense- Perception  53 


IX 

Between  sense-perceivables  considered  as  outside  of 
every  subject,  and  sense-perceivables  included  in  the  con- 
sciousness of  a  determinate  subject — i.e.  be-  Difference 
tween  perceivables  and  percepts  respectively  external*11 
— there  are  certain  important  differences.  (1)  JJXJ  ^con- 
Differences  of  quantity  : — I  only  see  and  touch  tents 
at  any  moment,  or  in  the  whole  of  my  life,  a  very  small 
part  of  the  things  which  are  visible  and  tangible.  (2) 
Differences  of  quality  : — the  surface  of  the  table  is  round, 
and  I  see  it  elliptical ;  the  distant  mountain  appears  to 
me  blue,  whereas  it  is  not  blue ;  between  my  crossed 
fingers  I  seem  to  hold  two  buttons,  while  there  is  only 
one  there.  (3)  Differences  in  spatial  distribution  : — the 
stars  appear  to  me  attached  to  the  vault  of  the  sky, 
whereas  they  are  scattered  at  enormous  distances ;  as 
I  walk,  trees,  houses,  hill-tops,  &c.,  change  their  apparent 
relative  positions.  (4)  Differences  in  time-succession  :— 
from  a  hill  I  see  a  company  of  soldiers  march  into  a 
barrack  square.  Suddenly  the  company  halts,  and  a 
moment  later  I  hear  the  order  to  halt.  I  hear  it  later, 
but  it  must  have  been  given  a  moment  sooner.  (5) 
Analogous  differences  between  the  ways  in  which  two 
subjects  are  aware  of  the  same  characteristics  of  one 
and  the  same  body.  Titius,  who  has  good  sight,  reads 
the  notice ;  Sempronius,  who  is  short-sighted,  appre- 
hends that  it  is  a  notice,  but  does  not  succeed  in 
reading  it. 

The  question  arises,  how  the  difficulties  at  which  we 
have  hinted  are  reconcilable  with  the  doctrine  set  forth. 
According  to  this  doctrine,  sense-perceiving,  on  the  part 
of  a  subject,  means  a  sense-perceivable  being  included  in 
the  consciousness  of  the  subject,  this  being  the  same 


54  The  Great  Problems 

within  the  consciousness  of  the  subject  as  without  it,  and 
the  same  for  the  consciousness  of  two  subjects.  It  may 
also  be  asked,  how  the  subject  can  become  conscious  of 
the  differences;  but  of  this  second  question  we  shall  speak 
later. 

According  to  common  opinion,  a  quality  of  a  body— 
i.e.  a  sense -perceivable — only  exists  in  a  limited  region 
of  space,  which  is  said  to  be  occupied  by  the  body. 
Common  opinion  is  here  incorrect ;  for  if  it  were  correct, 
not  only  should  we  not  perceive  through  the  senses — I 
am  some  distance  from  Sirius,  and  also  from  the  carriage 
passing  in  the  street — but  a  number  of  facts — sense- 
percepts,  not  however  constituted  by  our  perceiving  them 
—would  be  impossible.  A  wall  hinders  another  body 
from  penetrating  into  a  certain  space,  but  does  not  hinder 
movement  outside  that  space.  Its  property  of  resistance 
is  manifested  in  one  portion  of  space  and  not  elsewhere. 
That  is  why  we  can  say  that  the  wall  is  in  a  given  place, 
and  has  a  volume  and  form  invariable  up  to  a  certain 
point.  But  the  property  of  illuminating  other  bodies— 
when  it  is  itself  illuminated — is  a  property  of  the  wall, 
no  less  than  that  of  resistance.  This  second  property  is 
not  manifested  in  that  space  in  which  we  say  that  the 
wall  exists.  It  is  manifested,  with  variations  at  varying 
distances,  in  the  whole  of  space  that  is  free  from  ana- 
logous bodies.  If  we  consider  this  second  property — and 
why  not? — we  must  needs  say  that  the  wall  is  a  little 
everywhere.  The  same  may  be  said  of  some  other 
properties  of  every  body — the  table  at  which  I  am 
writing  is  heavy ;  its  weight  would  appear  to  be  an 
intrinsic  property  of  it,  which  would  exercise  no  action 
except  on  bodies  underneath  it.  But  this  is  not  true. 
The  table  is  heavy  in  so  far  as  every  particle  of  it,  even 
the  smallest,  tends  to  approach  every  other  body,  while 
every  other  body  tends  to  approach  it.  In  respect  of  its 


Sense-Perception  55 

weight,  which  is  certainly  a  property  of  it,  the  table  is 
also  a  little  everywhere. 

There  is  no  need  to  add  more.  Certain  sense-per- 
ceivables  are  localised l  within  determinate  confines,  but 
certain  others  are  diffused  far  beyond  the  confines  which 
we  are  accustomed  to  assign  to  a  body — diffused  in- 
definitely, though  not  uniformly.  Among  diffused  sense- 
perceivables  there  are  some  which  are  common  to  many 
bodies  or  to  every  body,  and  some 2  which  are  essentially 
common — i.e.  such  that  they  are  constituents  of  one 
body  only  in  so  far  as  they  are  constituents  of  every 
other  body.  And  those  perceivables  which  are  localised 
make  in  substance  one  whole  with  the  others  because 
they  depend  on  them.  For  example,  the  volume,  tenacity, 
&c.,  of  a  body  vary  with  the  temperature.  It  follows 
from  this  that  bodies  are  not  elements  altogether  distinct 
from  the  universe,  each  endowed  with  its  own  individu- 
ality, though  all  are  connected  together,  like,  e.g.,  the 
rings  of  a  chain.  A  less  inadequate  conception  of  what 
bodies  are  in  regard  to  the  world  we  gain  rather  by 
thinking  what  the  vertices,  sides,  and  diagonals  of  a 
polygon  are  in  regard  to  the  polygon.  They  are  elements 
constitutive  of  the  whole,  but  in  their  turn  constituted 
by  it ;  they  are  terms  in  certain  relations — terms  which 
would  vanish  with  the  vanishing  of  the  relations.  The 
meaning  of  our  previous  statement — that  every  body 
is  a  group  of  seuse-perceivables — is  now  much  better 
determined. 

A  body  with  respect  to  its  diffused  perceivables — 
diffused  to  such  a  degree  that  in  respect  of  some  every 
body  is  as  widely  diffused  as  the  universe — is  a  centre, 
a  centre  of  intensity,  of  variation,  of  connection.  The 
intensity  of  the  perceivables  is  greatest  in  the  neigh- 

1  I  do  not  inquire  how  rigorous  the  enclosure  is. 

2  e.g.  weight. 


56  The  Great  Problems 

bourhood  of  the  bodies,  and  diminishes  rapidly  as  the 
distance  increases.  The  variations  of  the  perceivables 
do  not  commence  absolutely  in  the  bodies ;  no  absolute 
commencements  are  given  in  the  physical  world.  But 
the  bodies  are,  as  it  were,  their  nodal  points,  from  which 
the  variations,  having  reached  them,  recommence  a  dis- 
tinct phase  of  propagation.  Finally,  in  a  body  the  vary- 
ing of  one  perceivable  is  connected  with  the  varying 
of  the  others.  It  determines  this  variation,  and  is  de- 
termined by  it  according  to  certain  laws.  Centrality  is 
characteristic  not  of  the  body  as  a  whole  capable  of 
being  moved  while  preserving  its  properties  intact,  or 
rather  changing  them  slowly,  but  of  each  part  of  it.  It 
is  not  unlikely  that  these  centralities — manifold,  mul- 
tiform, and  connected — constitute  the  circumscribed 
sense-perceivables  by  which  the  existence  of  a  body  is 
ordinarily  manifested  to  us. 

The  diminution  of  the  intensity  of  a  perceivable  with 
the  increase  of  the  distance  from  the  central  body 
depends  not  only  on  the  distance,  but  on  the  bodies 
interposed.  Thus,  for  instance,  the  light  emitted  by  a 
body  is  intercepted  entirely  by  an  opaque  body,  but 
only  partially  by  a  transparent  body,  &c.  &c.  And 
the  variations  of  a  perceivable  require  in  general  time 
to  propagate  themselves.  The  mutual  weight  of  bodies 
seems  to  form  a  solitary  exception  to  this. 

X 

The  subject  as  sentient *  is  a  group  of  sense-percepts, 
or  in  the  end  of  sense-perceivables  bound  together  in 
•me  subject  the  UQity  of  consciousness.  It  is  also  always 
as  sentient,  associated  with  a  body — its  own  body.  Of 
this  association,  which  is  a  sine  qua  non  of  the  existence 

1  For  the  time  being  \vu  are  only  considering  it  under  this  aspect. 


Sense- Perception  57 

of  a  sentient  subject,  we  must  say  enough  (1)  to  demon- 
strate its  accordance  with  the  doctrine  set  forth,  and 
(2)  to  eliminate  the  difficulties  mentioned  above. 

A  body  of  any  kind  is  a  group  of  sense -perceivables 
bound  together  by  a  law.  The  unity  of  sense-perceptive 
consciousness  is  also  a  law  by  which  sense-perceivables 
are  bound  together.1  Between  these  two  laws  there  is 
a  difference  on  which  it  seems  useless  to  insist  after  all 
we  have  said.  I  see  the  colour  of  a  stuff  which  I  have 
under  my  eye,  and  with  my  hand  in  my  pocket  I  touch 
a  key ;  a  resistance  and  a  colour  are  connected  as  percepts 
in  the  unity  of  my  consciousness — it  is  I  who  touch,  it 
is  I  who  see — and  yet  they  are  not  connected  as 
perceivables  in  the  unity  of  one  and  the  same  body. 
The  unity  of  a  body  and  the  unity  of  a  consciousness 
are,  as  unities  or  laws,  different.  But  that  to  one  law 

—physical  or  physiological — by  which  certain  perceiv- 
ables are  so  bound  together  as  to  constitute  a  body, 
another  should  be  associated  or  superimposed,  by  which 
some  of  those  perceivables  are  bound  together  in  the 
unity  of  a  subject,  involves  nothing  impossible  or 
strange.  Whereas,  if  the  bodies  are  supposed  consti- 
tuted of  elements  other  than  facts  of  consciousness,  it 
is  absolutely  no  longer  possible  to  understand  how  the 
unity  of  sense-perceiving  consciousness  is  always  and 
essentially  associated  with  a  body.2 

We  do  not  assert  that  the  formation  of  a  subject 
is  the  consequence  of  the  formation  of  an  organism. 
When  we  reflect  that  the  organism  is  only  too  evidently 
preordained  to  the  subject,  it  seems  rather  not  im- 
probable that  the  pre-existence  of  an  elementary  subject 

—of  a  first  nucleus  of  unitary  consciousness — may  be  a 

1  It  is  in  virtue  of  this  binding  together  that  they  become  percepts. 

2  Not  to  mention  how  gratuitous   and   intrinsically   incomprehensible 
auch  a  supposition  would  be. 


58  The  Great  Problems 

condition  of  the  formation  of  an  organism.  Limiting 
ourselves  to  what  stands  in  the  line  of  observation — the 
law  which  constitutes  the  organism  and  the  law  which 
constitutes  the  subject — these  are  seen  to  be  correlative, 
though  different ;  neither  has  value  apart  from  the  other. 
And  it  is  fairly  evident  that  this  must  be  so.  The 
unity  of  the  subject  is  not  extended  to  the  totality  of 
the  sense -perceivables ;  though,  as  unity,  it  can  be 
extended  to  any  perceivable 1  whatever,  it  never  in- 
cludes more  than  a  relatively  minute  part  of  them. 
The  fact  that  I  do  not  see  certain  things,  and  shall  never 
see  certain  others,  must  be  referred  not  to  the  things 
nor  yet  to  the  law  which  constitutes  me,  but  to  some- 
thing else — to  the  laws  which  preside  over  the  group- 
ing and  connected  varying  of  sense-perceivables  outside 
every  limited  unity  of  consciousness. 

Some  sense-perceivables — relatively  very  few — are 
included  as  percepts  in  my  consciousness,  while  all 
the  others  are  excluded  from  it.  The  reason  for  this 
difference  is  that  those  first  perceivables,  and  those  only, 
are  connected  by  a  physical  and  physiological  law  in 
virtue  of  which  they  constitute  a  body — my  body.  We 
have  already  said  that  the  sense-perceivables  perceived 
by  me  are  elements  of  me,  the  only  ones  from  which  the 
sense -perceiving  Ego*  results.  We  now  see  that  the 
same  perceivables  are  connected  by  another  law  too,  so 
as  to  constitute  my  body.  The  same  sense-perceivables 
constitute  my  body  and  me — my  body,  so  far  as  they 
are  connected  by  a  physiological  law  ;  me,  so  far  as  they 
are  connected  by  the  unity  of  consciousness.  These 
two  laws  are  correlative,  and  each  presupposes  the 

1  No  colour  exists  which  by  intrinsic  necessity,  either  of  the  colour  or 
of  me,  must  be  invisible  to  me. 

*  The  unity  of  consciousness  is  not  one  element,  dill'oreut  from  the 
others. 


Sense- Percept  ion  59 

other.  Every  sense-perceivable  which  is  perceived  is 
thereby  an  element  both  of  that  unity  of  consciousness 
which  is  my  ego,  and  of  that  physiological  unity  which 
is  my  body.  We  can  therefore  say  that  substantially  I 
never  perceive  by  the  senses  anything  but  myself  or  my 
body.  There  is  no  need  to  point  out  that  the  meaning 
of  this  proposition  is  by  no  means  solipsistic. 


XI 

The  book  which  I  see  does  not  form  part  of  my  body. 
On  the  other  hand,  the  liver  which  I  have  never  seen 
does  form  part  of  it.  This  observation,  just,  ^&  subject 
though  commonplace,  does  not  constitute  a  anditabody- 
serious  difficulty.  The  book  is  illuminated  by  the  sun 
—that  is  to  say,  a  sense-perceivable  which  belongs  to 
the  sun  belongs  also  to  the  book.  The  book  and  the 
sun  cannot  be  resolved  entirely  into  the  same  perceiv- 
ables,  and  hence  they  are  two  bodies ;  but  that  does  not 
prevent  one  and  the  same  sense-perceivable  with  different 
intensities  from  being  an  element  common  to  the  book 
and  to  the  sun.  The  sun  with  its  light  reaches  the  book. 
On  the  other  hand,  this  light  of  the  sun  which  reaches 
the  book  and  is  reflected  from  it  is  the  light  of  the  book. 
Is  not  what  I  see — the  white  of  the  paper,  the  black  of 
the  letters,  &c. — a  complex  of  qualities  of  the  book  ? 

The  book  is  seen  by  me — that  is  to  say,  some  sense- 
perceivable  which  belongs  to  the  book,  which  is  an 
element  of  it,  is  at  the  same  time  an  element  of  a 
conscious  subject.  But  for  me  to  see  the  book,  the  book 
must  illumine  the  inside  of  my  eye.  The  eye's  being 
illumined  by  the  book  means,  if  it  is  seen,  that  a 
perceivable,  an  element  of  the  book,  is  at  the  same  time 
an  element  of  the  eye.  A  perceivable,  without  ceasing 
to  be  an  element  of  that  group,  which  is  the  book,  becomes 


60  The  Great  Problems 

an  element  also  of  that  other  group,  which  is  my  body — 
and  this  as  a  sine  qua  non  of  that  perceivable  being 
included  in  my  consciousness. 

The  external  body,  seen,  touched,  &c.,  and  the  body 
of  the  subject  remain  two  distinct  bodies,  because  not 
every  element  of  the  first  becomes  an  element  of  the 
second.  But  among  the  perceivables  from  which  the 
external  body  results,  only  those  perceivables  are  per- 
ceived which  are  united  to  the  body  of  the  subject, 
becoming  elements  of  it  also.  Colours,  sounds,  &c.,  do 
not  belong  only  to  the  subject's  body — or  rather  they 
belong  to  this  only  in  so  far  as  they  belong  also  to  some 
other  body,  and  the  subject  which  includes  them  in 
its  own  consciousness  is  rendered  aware  of  something 
other  than  its  own  body.  But  colours,  sounds,  &c.,  do 
not  belong  to  the  subject  unless  they  belong  also  to  its 
body ;  they  are  not  included  in  a  unity  of  conscious- 
ness unless  they  are  included  in  a  physiological  unity. 
This,  however,  cannot  be  comprehended  by  anyone  who 
has  that  narrow  and  vulgar  conception  of  body  of  which 
we  have  already  shown  the  insufficiency. 

In  relation  to  the  subject's  body  we  must  make 
an  important  distinction.  The  sense-perceivables  of  which 
my  body  is  a  group  can  be  divided  into  two  sub-groups. 
The  elements  of  the  one  group — "  A" — are  elements  also 
of  me  as  subject ;  they  are  what  I  perceive.  The  others 
— "B" — are  as  a  rule  outside  my  consciousness.  They 
exist  in  order  that  the  A-elements  can  both  exist  and 
remain  in  the  conditions  which  render  possible  their 
inclusion  in  one  consciousness.  The  whole  which  consists 
of  the  A-elements  is  essential  to  the  subject,  at  least 
to  the  subject  as  sense-percipient.  The  B-elements  con- 
stitute together  with  A  a  body  which  is  called  mine, 
because  (1)  it  includes  the  A-elernents,  and  because  (2)  its 
B-elements,  which  are  inseparable  from  the  A-elements — 


Sense-Perception  61 

these  in  turn  being  inseparable  from  me — have  them- 
selves an  absolutely  peculiar  connection  with  me. 

The  sub-group  A  corresponds,  very  nearly,  to  the 
nervous  system,  but  not  more  than  very  nearly.  Certain 
constituent  perceivables  essential  to  the  nervous  system 
— its  structure,  for  instance — remain  outside  conscious- 
ness. But  certain  others1  are  included  in  consciousness  by 
the  very  fact  that  they  are,  or  have  become,  constituents 
of  the  nervous  system.  In  that  consists  the  essential 
correlativity  of  the  two  laws  ( 1 )  of  unity  of  consciousness 
and  (2)  of  unity  of  an  organism.  In  this  way  sense- 
perceiving  is  fundamentally  explained.  Its  particulars 
relating  to  physiology  and  psychology  cannot  be  dealt 
with  here. 


XII 

Only  those  sense-perceivables  which  are  associated 
in  the  unity  of  the  nervous  system  can  be  associated  in 
the  unity  of  consciousness.  It  follows  that  , 

•fm  m  t   >  Condition  of 

the  physical  and  physiological  conditions  of  theperceiv- 
the  possibility  of  a  perceivable's  being  asso-  included  in 

J  the  unity  of 

ciated a  with  the  nervous  system  are  at  the  a  conscious- 
same  time  conditions  of  the  possibility  of  a 
perceivable's  being  included  in  the  unity  of  conscious- 
ness.    I  cannot  touch  with  my  finger  other  than  earthly 
bodies ;  of  these  I  touch  very  few  simultaneously,  and 
the  number  of  those  which  I  can  touch  in  succession  is 
also  very  limited.     It  follows  that,  of  the  perceivables 
which  have  precise   spatial  limits,  relatively   very  few 
are  perceived  by  me,  and,  but  for  the  diffused  perceiv- 
ables and  the  aptitude  of  the  nervous  system  to  form  a 

1  These  are  either  essential  to  the  system  or  united  to  it  in  con- 
sequence of  certain  processes,  such  as  having  the  eyes  open,  the  hand 
extended,  &c. 

a  i.e.  becoming  an  element  of  it,  as  we  have  said. 


62  The  Great  Problems 

system  with  them,  the  perceivable  universe  would  be 
reduced  to  a  mere  nothing. 

By  means  of  sight  my  consciousness  extends  itself 
to  enormous  distances.  Of  a  distant  body,  however,  I 
only  see  the  part  which,  by  means  of  its  luminous 
perceivables,  succeeds  in  forming  a  system  with  that 
very  small  part  of  my  nervous  system  which  is  capable 
of  it.  I  see  only  by  means  of  the  eyes,  and  disease  or 
an  accident  may  render  them  mope  or  less  ill-adapted  to 
this  function.  Thus  I  may  be  long-sighted  or  short- 
sighted, or  colour-blind  or  totally  blind.  In  any  case  I 
only  see  in  front  of  me.  I  only  see  through  transparent 
bodies,  and  these — even  the  most  transparent — retain  the 
light  in  part  and  modify  the  colours.  The  shapes  and 
distribution  of  the  bodies  visible  to  me  are  images  in 
perspective,  like  those  formed  on  the  retina.1  Hence  a 
round  disk,  if  not  right  in  front,  seems  to  me  oval,  and 
the  apparent  distribution  of  the  bodies  varies  with  the 
point  of  view.  If  my  nervous  system  is  not  in  a  patho- 
logical state,  the  diffused  perceivables  are  perceived  by 
me  as  they  are,2  but  as  they  are  where  my  body  is 
situated,  where  alone  my  nervous  system  can  assimilate 
them. 

The  diffused  perceivables  are  not  stably  diffused. 
Not  only  do  they  vary,  but  their  very  existence  is  a 
varying,3  a  varying  in  space  and  time,  and  in  different 
times  according  to  the  diversity  of  the  perceivables. 
This  time-difference  accounts  for  the  fact  that  an 
apparent  order  of  succession  is  sometimes  different  from 
the  real  succession. 

1  Of  course  I  see  the  bodies  and  not  the  retinal  image,  but  my  seeing 
them  is  conditioned  by  that  image. 

z  The  contrary  supposition  is  gratuitous  and  leads  to  tho  incongruities 
noticed  above. 

3  This  is  also  true  of  every  perceivable,  though  slowness  of  variation 
often  simulates  permanence. 


Sense- Perception  63 

In  this  connection  we  must  take  into  account  not 
only  the  nervous  system,  but  also  the  subject — not  only 
the  physical  and  physiological  laws  of  the  grouping  of 
the  perceivables,  but  also  that  other  law  which  is  unity 
of  consciousness.  A  perceivable  becomes  included  in  a 
consciousness  which  is  already  a  complex  of  percepts. 
Roughly,  it  is  the  same  as  if  I  poured  water  into  a  vessel. 
It  is  quite  clear  that  the  water  poured  is  not  a  modi- 
fication of  the  vessel.  But  it  is  also  clear  that  neither 
the  water  nor  the  vessel  are  absolutely  inert.  They  are 
in  the  relation  of  container  and  contained,  and  thus  an 
exchange  of  actions  and  reactions  will  take  place  between 
them.  The  new  percept  modifies  the  subject  by  its  very 
presence — it  is  a  new  element  of  the  subject.  But  it 
will  determine  further  modifications  there.  An  object 
which  I  see  makes  me  remember  another  seen  before ; 
it  provokes  a  feeling,  desire,  &c.  The  percepts,  as  per- 
cepts, establish  bonds  between  themselves,  and  what  a 
percept  is  depends  in  part  upon  the  bonds  contracted, 
while  these  in  their  turn  depend  on  what  the  percepts 
are,  and  are  generally  modified  by  the  appearance  of 
new  percepts  and  the  disappearance  of  old  ones. 

In  conclusion,  we  are  sense-percipient  subjects  be- 
cause, and  in  so  far  as,  we  unify  in  our  consciousness 
certain  perceivables  which  are  independent  of  it.  With 
all  this,  or  rather  because  of  it,1  sense-perceptive  con- 
sciousness is  different  not  only  from  the  scientific  know- 
ledge which  we  have  of  the  world,  but  from  that  image 
which  we  have  of  it  and  which  serves  as  the  basis  of 
scientific  knowledge.  In  the  subject  we  must  recognise 
other  aptitudes  besides  that  of  being  sense-percipient. 

1  By  the  conditions  of  our  sense-perceiving  or  of  our  existing. 


64  The  Great  Problems 


XIII 

All  that  we  have  hitherto  set  forth  should  serve  as 
a  preparation  for  the  doctrine  which  we  shall  proceed  to 
Re  expound,  and  should  be  taken  for  a  prepara- 

and  anticipa-  tion  only,  not  for  a  complete  explanation. 
But  since  the  preparation  is  well  understood, 
a  few  anticipations1  of  the  doctrines  which  will  be 
established  later  will  not  be  out  of  place  here.  Each 
of  the  subjects  of  which  we  have  sure  information  is 
more  than  a  unity  of  sense-percepts ;  it  is  also  a  centre 
of  activities.  And  it  results  from  the  development  of 
a  pre-existent  unity  of  sense-percepts,  that  it  is  at  the 
same  time  a  centre  of  activities.  For  example,  a  young 
boy  is  not  a  subject  in  the  same  sense  as  a  man  is ;  yet 
from  the  moment  of  birth,  and  even  before,  he  is  active 
and  sense-percipient.  His  development  consists  in  the 
extension 2  and  organisation  of  sense-perceptive  con- 
sciousness, this  last  going  hand  in  hand  with  the 
organisation  of  his  activities. 

As  to  how  or  whether  a  conscious  active  centre 
begins  to  be,  it  is  useless  to  risk  suppositions.  But 
with  regard  to  its  development  we  can  lay  down  with 
certainty  that  it  is  determined  by  the  interference  of 
the  activity  which  is  a  constituent  of  the  centre  with 
other  activities.  Among  these  "  other  activities  "  there 
are  quite  certainly  those  of  not  a  few  analogous  centres. 
Whether  these  "  other  activities  "  are  for  the  most  part 
of  an  entirely  different  nature,  is  a  question  the  answer 
to  which  should  (1)  have  a  meaning — not  all  proposi- 
tions which  seem  to  have  a  meaning  really  do  so — and 

1  Cf.  Chapter  III.  Sections  iv.,  ix.-xii.  ;  Reality  and  lieason,  Sections  ii., 
vii.,  x.,  xii. ;  Being,  Sections  vi.,  vii.,  ix. 

2  By  means  of  the  acquisition  of  new  sense-percepts,  which  are  remem- 
bered with  increasing  stability. 


Sense- Perception  65 

(2)  not  include  a  single  gratuitous  hypothesis.  Well, 
the  existence  of  activities  referable  to  centres  which 
are  at  the  same  time  unities  of  sense -percepts  is  beyond 
dispute.  The  existence  of  activities  of  an  entirely 
different  nature  is,  on  the  other  hand,  a  hypothesis 
of  which  we  do  not  know  whether  it  has  any  meaning. 
It  follows  that  such  a  hypothesis  is  inadmissible — 
unless  we  have  first  demonstrated  the  impossibility 
of  conceiving  the  universe  as  a  system  consisting 
solely  of  the  activities  which  can  be  referred  to  the 
above-mentioned  centres.  That  the  hypothesis1  is 
gratuitous,  and  therefore  not  to  be  seriously  considered, 
will  be  proved  by  the  present  book.  In  this  place  we 
wish  to  pause  for  a  moment,  to  note  that  the  abandoning 
of  such  a  hypothesis — i.e.  the  reduction  of  reality  to 
simple  phenomenality — implies  and  makes  clear  the 
doctrine  set  forth  above,  and  is  in  turn  implied  in  it 
and  made  clear  by  it. 

Two  centres,  A  and  B,  each  of  which  is  active  and 
is  a  unity  of  certain  percepts,  operate  upon  each  other. 
The  result  is  a  varying2  in  the  perceptive  consciousness 
both  of  A  and  of  B.  The  new  percepts  which  in  this 
way  become  included  in  the  consciousness  of  A  and  of  B 
depend  from  one  point  of  view  more  or  less  on  the 
previous  contents  of  the  two  consciousnesses,  and  will 
consequently  be  in  general  more  or  less  different.  But 
they  depend  also  from  another  point  of  view  essentially 
on  the  reciprocal  action  which  has  taken  place  between 
the  two  centres  A  and  B.  This  action,  though  it 
presupposes  the  two  distinct  activities  of  A  and  of  B, 

1  The  hypothesis  of  activities  of  an  entirely  different  nature,  activities 
whose  existence  would  not  be  the  existence  of  a  consciousness. 

*  The  varying  presupposes  that  each  of  the  two  centres  had  already  a 
sense-perceptive  consciousness,  and  this  again  presupposes  other  previous 
actions  of  each  centre  on  other  centres.  It  is  useless  to  ask  when  and  how 
this  process  began  to  be. 

E 


66  The  Great  Problems 

is  yet  a  single  action.  The  consciousness  formed  of 
it  in  A  and  the  consciousness  formed  of  it  in  B  have 
from  this  point  of  view  one  single  content,  though  as 
consciousnesses  they  are  two.  The  possibility  of  there 
being  two  or  more  distinct  consciousnesses  in  a  content 
which  is  partly1  the  same  for  both  is  thus  proved.  It 
makes  no  difference  to  the  argument  however  developed 
the  two  subjects  A  and  B  are,  or  if  their  reciprocal 
action  is  not  immediate  but  becomes  realised  through 
the  mediation  of  other  centres, — or  finally,  if  instead  of 
the  reciprocal  action  between  two  subjects  we  consider 
two  reciprocal  actions  between  a  partially  systematised 
group  of  centres  and  each  of  the  two  subjects  respectively. 
In  the  same  way  it  can  be  proved  that  the  existence 
of  a  sense-perceivable  cannot  be  reduced  to  its  being 
perceived  by  any  subject  whatever.  Let  us  see.  A 
sense-perceivable  is  never  different  from  a  fact  of  con- 
sciousness ;  this  is  equivalent  to  saying  that  its  existence 
is  always  a  being  included,  as  sense-percept,  in  the 
unities  of  at  least  two  centres — with  a  certain  diversity, 
which  can  be  very  slight,  in  the  two  cases.  But  we 
must  not  forget  one  circumstance.  The  universe,  though 
its  existence  can  be  resolved  into  its  being  a  system  of 
the  said  centres,  implies  so  many  of  them  that  the 
activity  of  one  is  as  nothing  in  comparison  with  the  whole 
consisting  of  all  the  others.  I  am  here  in  a  sunlit  room  ; 
in  my  consciousness  there  is  a  great  number  of  images 
which  vanish  if  I  close  my  eyes.  The  existence  of 
these  images  is  due  to  the  interference  of  the  activities 
of  very  many  centres  not  only  with  one  another  but 
also  with  my  activity.  If  I  close  my  eyes,  my  activity 
ceases  to  interfere  in  a  certain  way  with  the  whole 
consisting  of  the  other  activities.  But  the  whole,  by 

1  The  part  common  to  both  will  bo  able  to  vary  with  circumstances  from 
an  indeterminable  minimum  to  almost  the  wholu  content. 


Sense- Perception  67 

reason  of  the  fact  that  one  of  its  elements  is  thus 
eliminated — and  that  only  partially,  under  one  aspect- 
has  only  undergone  an  absolutely  minimal  variation. 
The  system  remains,  I  might  say,  identical ;  for  the 
whole  consisting  of  the  perceivables — which  was  their 
product — remains  identical.  These  perceivables,  now 
no  longer  perceived  by  me,  can  be  perceived  by  any 
other  subject  whatever  —  with  differences  greater  or 
less  according  to  the  intrinsic  differences  between  the 
other  subject  and  me.  They  will  be  perceived  afresh 
by  me  as  soon  as  I  reopen  my  eyes. 

That  all  this  is  quite  clear  I  do  not  pretend.  The 
book  is  not  yet  ended.  Yet  I  believe  I  have  said 
enough  to  make  it  intelligible  that  certain  affirmations, 
at  first  sight  paradoxical,  can  receive  a  meaning,  and 
even  appear — as  they  do — to  rest  on  ordinary  evidence, 
since  they  are  connected  with  my  whole  theory.  To 
break  the  rods  of  a  bundle  one  after  another  is  easy ;  it 
is  less  easy  to  break  the  bundle  as  a  whole. 


CHAPTER  III 

MEMORY,   FEELING,   ACTION 


IN  the  consciousness  of  the  subject  there  are,  besides 
sense-percepts,  representations  or  images.  If  in  con- 
Memory  and  versation  I  happen  to  say,  for  instance, 
SonalffactB  "elephant,"  suddenly  a  species  of  picture 
excSvSy  to  confronts  my  hearer,  so  that  he  seems  to  see 
a  subject.  confusedly  or  to  half-see  an  elephant.  Repre- 
sentations arise  also  when  not  called  forth  by  words 
heard,  but  having  arisen  they  then  claim  for  the  most 
part  the  corresponding  words.  We  have  compared  them 
to  pictures,  but  there  are  also  some  of  another  kind. 
For  instance,  hearing  the  word  "  thunder-storm,"  I 
seem  as  it  were  to  see  a  sky  covered  with  clouds, 
furrowed  by  flashes  of  lightning,  &c.,  but  together  with 
this  I  seem  to  hear  the  rolling  of  the  thunder,  the  beat- 
ing of  the  rain,  &c.  We  add  no  more — images  or  repre- 
sentations are  very  common  facts.  If  we  wish  to  speak 
of  them,  few  words  are  needed  to  make  everyone  under- 
stand of  what  we  are  speaking. 

When  I  see,  touch,  &c.,  there  is  in  my  consciousness 
(«s  a  percept)  a  sense -perceivable  which  may  be  simul- 
taneously in  the  consciousness  of  another  also,  and 
whose  existence  therefore  does  not  consist  in  its  being  in 
my  consciousness  or  in  any  one  else's.  The  question 
arises,  as  to  whether  the  representations  are  (can  be) 
like  the  sense-perceivables,  elements  common  to  many 
subjects,  so  that  many  subjects  may  be  conscious  of  one 


Memory,  Feeling,  Action  69 

and  the  same  representation — save  for  differences  of 
secondary  characters,  like  those  already  noted  in  the 
way  in  which  different  subjects  have  consciousness  of 
the  same  perceivable  thing — or  whether  instead  every 
subject  has  his  own  representations,  like  another's  as 
much  as  you  please,  but  numerically  distinct. 

Suppose  a  few  of  us  are  in  the  Raphael  Galleries 
admiring  the  "School  of  Athens."  It  is  quite  evident 
that  the  "  School  of  Athens "  seen  by  all  is  only  one. 
My  friend  sees  it,  someone  else  sees  it,  I  see  it,  each  of 
us  has  a  "  School  of  Athens  "  in  his  consciousness.  But 
there  is  no  motive  at  all  for  supposing  that  what  my 
friend  has  consciousness  of  is  numerically  other  than 
what  I  have  consciousness  of,  &c.  The  supposition 
appears  gratuitous,  and  therefore  not  to  be  taken  into 
consideration  without  reference  to  the  very  extraordi- 
nary consequences  which  follow  from  it.  To  assert  that 
there  is  one  "  School  of  Athens  "  seen  by  us,  and  visible 
to  anyone  whatever,1  is  not  to  formulate  a  theory  which 
needs  proof.  It  is  simply  an  expression  of  the  fact, 
immediate  and  without  prejudice. 

On  leaving  the  Vatican,  my  friend  and  I  proceed  to 
talk  about  the  "  School  of  Athens,"  of  which  he  and  I 
alike  have  an  image.  One  image  only  for  both  or  for 
each  his  own  image  ?  For  each  his  own,  evidently.  The 
immediate  and  unprejudiced  expression  of  the  fact  in 
this  case  is  the  opposite  of  what  it  was  in  the  preceding. 
As,  when  we  were  before  the  fresco,  not  to  admit  that 
the  same  was  included  in  my  friend's  consciousness  and 
in  mine  was  to  formulate  a  strange  and  gratuitous 
supposition,  so  it  is  strange  and  gratuitous  to  admit  now 
that  there  can  be  one  and  the  same  image  in  my  friend's 
consciousness  and  in  mine. 

1  i.e.  included   in  our  consciousness  and   capable  of  being   included  in 
that  of  any  subject  whatever. 


yo  The  Great  Problems 

A  fortiori,  the  same  may  be  said  of  the  images 
corresponding  with  common  nouns — elephant,  triangle, 
&c.  Each  of  these  nouns  has  a  signification  which  of 
necessity  must  be  one  and  the  same  for  everybody. 
Otherwise  we  should  not  understand  each  other.  But 
the  signification  is  a  concept — that  is  to  say,  quite  a 
different  thing  from  an  image.1  An  image — for  instance, 
that  of  a  triangle — is  always  something  oscillating,  as 
everyone  can  easily  recognise.  That  which  I  have 
before  me  in  a  given  moment  is  never  identical  with 
that  which  I  myself  have  before  me  in  a  successive 
moment.  How  could  we  maintain,  then,  that  the  image 
present  to  me  is  identical  with  that  present  to  another  ? 


II 

Recollection  implies  always  an  image  or  representa- 
tion of  the  past  physical  fact  which  is  recollected,  on  the 
Memory  and  nature  of  which  we  have  spoken.  For  in- 

ection.  s^aiicej  j  recollect  the  obelisk  of  Montecitorio. 
I  do  not  see  it,  and  I  know  that  1  do  not  see  it,  but  I 
seem  almost  to  see  it,  I  have  an  image  of  it. 

I  recollect  something  unpleasant.  I  do  not  experience 
it,2  but  I  have  the  circumstances  and  details  before  me. 
The  relation  that  exists  between  the  actual  psychical 
phenomenon  and  the  past  unpleasantness  is  precisely 
similar  to  that  which  exists  between  the  actual  image  of 
the  obelisk  and  the  obelisk  I  saw.  The  actual  psychical 
phenomenon  may  well  be  called  an  image  or  representa- 
tion of  the  unpleasantness.  But  the  recollection,  though 

1  What  it  is  to  think  a  concept,  and  in  what  mutual  relation  concept 
and  image  stand,  we  cannot  stop  now  to  explain. 

2  Recollection  can  call  forth  a  renewal  of  the  unpleasantness,  hut  the 
renewal   of   the   unpleasantness    in   consequence   of    the   recollection   is   a 
different  thing  from  the  recollection — as  appears   from   the    fact  that  to 
recall  an  unpleasantness  may  be  pleasing. 


Memory ',  Feeling,  Action  71 

it  implies  an  image,  more  or  less  faithful,  of  the  past 
psychical  phenomenon,  cannot  be  reduced  to  that  image 
only.  It  happens  at  times  that  with  regard  to  a 
present  image  one  is  uncertain  whether  it  is  a  recol- 
lection or  a  mere  product  of  the  fancy.  To  constitute 
recollection,  the  image  besides  existing  must  be  recog- 
nised as  the  image  of  a  certain  past  psychical  pheno- 
menon. 

The  recollection  is  expressed  by  means  of  a  judgment. 
Does  recollection  then  imply  a  judgment?  Let  us 
reflect.  At  this  moment  I  recollect  the  obelisk  of 
Montecitorio.  I  can  say,  the  image  which  is  now  in 
my  consciousness  is  an  image  of  the  obelisk.  Now  by 
what  am  I  authorised  to  say  this  ?  Evidently  by  the 
recollection  without  which  I  could  not  speak  of  the 
obelisk.  I  could  not  even  suppose,  much  less  know, 
that  my  image  was  that  of  that  obelisk  or  of  any 
obelisk.  The  explicit  judgment  expresses  the  recol- 
lection, but  cannot  constitute  it,  for  it  presupposes  it. 

It  remains  that  the  recognition  essential  to  the 
recollection  consists  in  an  implicit  judgment.  There 
can  be  consciousness  of  a  relation  which  is  not  known.1 
This  takes  place  when  the  subject  is  capable  of  making 
use  of  it  or  perceives  at  least  that  it  is  changed.  For 
instance,  on  my  desk  there  are  books,  sheets  of  paper, 
and  several  other  things  in  a  certain  mutual  relation. 
I  should  be  greatly  embarrassed  if  I  tried  to  formulate 
these  relations ;  strictly  speaking,  I  do  not  know  them. 
But  I  have  consciousness  of  them.  I '  put  my  hand 
without  hesitation  on  what  I  want,  and  if  anyone  in  my 
absence  were  to  change  the  order  or  disorder  of  those 
things,  I  should  perceive  it  afterwards.  An  implicit 
judgment  is  the  consciousness  (in  this  sense)  of  a 
relation. 

1  More  strictly,  which  is  not  formulated  in  an  explicit  judgment. 


72  The  Great  Problems 

The  implicit  judgment  constituting  recognition  is, 
then,  the  consciousness  of  the  relation  that  subsists 
between  the  image  and  the  psychical  phenomenon  recol- 
lected. And  it  is  quite  evident  that  the  recollection  is 
constituted  by  the  consciousness  of  that  relation.  I 
recollect  the  obelisk  in  so  tar  as  I  know  that  my  image 
is  the  image  of  the  obelisk.  In  conclusion,  the  implicit 
judgment  in  which  the  recognition  essential  to  the 
recollection  consists  is  in  short  nothing  other  than  the 
recollection.  We  were  seeking  an  explanation  ;  we  have 
found  a  synonym.  We  recollect — this  is  certain.  But 

*  J 

how  we  recollect,  or  how  we  have  consciousness  of  cer- 
tain relations,  remains  to  be  investigated. 


Ill 

A  past  fact  leaves  some  consequences  of  itself.  Suppose 
we  have  a  thin  steel  lamina,  narrow  and  straight.  I 

O 

twist  it  round  itself  spirally,  and  let  it  go.     It 

Memory  and  .  <  - 

theconse-        straightens  itself,  it  seems  to  have  returned 

qnencea  of  .    ° 

a  fact.    Per-     to  its  tormer  state— it  seems,  but  has  not.     It 

manence  . 

essential  to      1  repeat  the  operation  a  very  oreat  number  ot 

memory.  .  r.  i        i         • 

times,  always  in  the  same  way,  the  lamina 
will  end  by  remaining  somewhat  curved  or  by  breaking. 
Then  the  first  twist  has  left  a  consequence,  so  slight  as 
not  to  be  directly  observable,  but  lasting.  We  may 
say  that  the  lamina  recollects  (in  a  certain  sense)  being 
twisted. 

There  is  no  doubt  that  among  the  conditions  of 
recollections  there  are  also  tacts  of  the  nature  of  the 
example  referred  to.  A  fact  is  recollected  because  it  has 
left  in  the  psycho-physical  organism  of  the  subject  con- 
sequences which  in  some  way  sooner  or  later  come  into 
consciousness.  But  recollection  cannot  be  reduced  to 
consciousness  of  the  consequences,  be  they  what  they 


Memory,  Feeling,  Action  73 

will.  I  see  in  the  earth  the  print  of  a  human  foot.  I 
conclude  that  someone  has  passed  that  way.  This 
knowledge  of  mine  is  not  recollection.  When  undress- 
ing to  go  to  bed,  I  take  my  watch  out  of  my  pocket  and 
proceed  to  wind  it  up.  I  perceive  that  it  has  already 
been  wound — no  doubt  by  me.  However,  I  do  not 
remember  having  wound  it.  The  being  conscious  of 
certain  consequences  of  a  fact  may  be  a  condition  of 
recollection,  but  by  itself  it  is  not  recollection.  Therefore 
recollection  cannot  be  reduced  to  inference  by  which  we 
infer  the  past  from  the  present,  without  reckoning  the 
fact  that  such  inference  implies  recollection.  How  could 
I,  from  the  fact  that  I  am  in  my  study,  infer  that  I  must 
have  climbed  the  stairs,  if  I  did  not  recollect  that  I 
have  been  out  of  doors  and  that  I  do  not  live  on  the 
ground-floor?  Or  rather,  if  I  did  not  recollect,  how 
could  I  think  of  a  past,  and  try  to  find  out  anything? 

In  order  that  a  present  psychical  content  (psichicitd) 
may  be  a  recollection,  it  is  not  only  necessary  for  it  to  be 
like  a  past  one,  but,  as  we  said,  it  must  be  connected  with 
the  past  one  by  certain  relations.1  And  there  must  be  con- 
sciousness of  these  ;  they  must  be  included  in  the  present 
psychical  content,  so  that  through  them  the  past  content 
may  be  reproduced  and  again  become  present.  Present 
consciousness  of  a  past  phenomenon — that  is  the  essence 
of  recollection. 

The  whole  of  a  certain  past  state  is  never  present. 
It  is  enough,  for  the  existence  of  recollection,  that  a  part 
of  the  past,  or  some  characteristic  mark,  or  any  element 
whatever  (even  a  revelation)  should  live  over  again, 
provided  that  something  in  the  present  should  be  the 
same  as  in  the  past,  and  be  present  as  past.  This  is  as 
much  as  to  say  that  recollection  implies  permanence. 

1  The  resemblance  may  be  very  relative,  and  whatever  stage  it  reaches  it 
is  insufficient  to  constitute  a  recollection. 


74  The  Great  Problems 

It  cannot  be  a  new  fact.  Because  a  new  fact — ab- 
solutely new — does  not  constitute  a  recollection,  not 
even  if  it  is  the  exact  repetition  of  an  anterior  fact.  It 
does  not  gain  the  quality  of  recollection  except  by  being 
connected  with  another  which  is  itself  per  se  a  recollec- 
tion, and  which  therefore  is  not  new  at  all.  To  explain 
this  permanence,  a  permanence  altogether  sui  generis, 
which  is  the  essence  of  recollection,  to  reduce  the  re- 
collection to  something  else,  to  construct  it  from  some- 
thing else,  to  make  it  stand  out  from  elements  which 
do  not  imply  it  and  do  not  presuppose  it,  is  im- 
possible. Recollection  is  something  absolutely  primitive, 
irreducible. 

IV 

As  a  sentient  being,  the  subject  can  be  reduced  to 
the  unity  of  some  sense-perceivables1 — a  unity  sui  generis 
The  subject  altogether  different  from  that  which  out  of 
point  oHBter-  several  sense-perceivables  constitutes  a  body  ; 
but  still  a  simple  unity  of  elements — elements 
of  which  that  unity  does  not  constitute  the  essence. 
Any  sense-perceivable  whatever,  in  fact,  can  be  included 
indifferently  in  the  unity  of  one  subject,  and  in  that 
of  another,  or  in  that  of  many  subjects  at  the  same  time, 
or  may  even  not  be  included  in  any  one  of  such  particular 
unities. 

As  a  sentient  being  only,  the  subject  is  nothing  but 
a  point  to  which  facts  of  consciousness  so  contribute 
that  from  the  separate  consciousnesses  which  constitute 
them  there  results  one  consciousness  alone,  which,  how- 
ever, contains  no  elements  which  can  be  called  exclu- 
sively its  own.  The  subject  A  and  the  subject  B 
differ  in  so  far  as  each  includes  certain  seuse-per- 

1  These,  in    virtue   of    being   bound    together  by  that    unity,   become 
percepts. 


Memory,  Feeling,  Action  75 

ceivables  which  are  not  included  in  the  other,  but  their 
difference  cannot  be  referred  to  anything  by  which  the 
one  or  the  other  unity  is  characterised  as  that  par- 
ticular unity.  Neither  of  the  two  sees  the  back  of  its 
own  head ;  each  of  the  two  can  see  the  other's.  The 
reason  lies  here — each  of  the  two  has  eyes  in  his  face. 
A  merely  sentient  subject  which  was  reduced  to  sight 
alone  would  be  nothing,  in  short,  but  the  binocular 
vision  which  one  has  at  that  moment  from  that  deter- 
minate place.  If  to  sight  we  add  touching,  hearing,  &c., 
with  the  greater  complication  we  shall  still  have  in 
substance  the  same  result. 

But  the  subject  which  imagines  and  recollects — as 
every  subject  does — exists  in  quite  another  way  than 
as  a  simple  point  of  interference  of  elements  not 
its  own.  The  images,  and  hence  the  recollections  also, 
are,  unlike  the  sense-perceivables,  only  subjective  facts 
peculiar  to  the  particular  subject.  The  images  and 
recollections  exist  in  so  far  as  that  subject  exists,  and 
would  disappear  with  it.  Every  subject  has  its  own, 
which  are  not  and  cannot  be  in  common  with  any 
other.  The  subject  capable  of  images  and  recollections 
has,  then,  an  individuality  of  its  own,  quite  otherwise 
determined,  circumscribed,  and  enclosed  in  itself  than 
one  which  is  capable  of  sense-percepts  only.  For  a 
rough  illustration  :  let  A  and  B  be  blank  manuscript 
books,  C  and  D  manuscripts.  A  leaf  may  be  passed 
indifferently  from  the  first  to  the  second,  but  not  from 
the  third  to  the  fourth.  On  a  blank  leaf  there  is 
nothing  to  indicate  whether  it  belongs  to  A  or  B, 
whereas  a  written  leaf  can  only  belong  to  C  or  D  or  to 
neither  of  the  two.  A,  B,  0,  and  D  are  four  unities,  but 
C  and  D  are  unities  much  more  narrow,  more  organic, 
more  intimate,  than  A  and  B. 

A  subject  capable  of  sense-percepts  only  could  only 


j6  The  Great  Problems 

be  identical  with  itself  as  long  as  all  its  percepts 
remained  the  same ;  the  slightest  variation  would  be 
the  end  of  that  particular  subject,  and  would  mark  the 
formation  of  a  new  one.  That  is  as  much  as  to  say  that 
such  a  subject  cannot  exist.  A  subject  which  remembers 
is  the  same  in  a  certain  sense  for  the  whole  time  to 
which  its  recollections  can  extend.  The  varying  of  a 
percept  (and  also  of  an  image  or  recollection)  is  certainly 
a  variation,  but  not  enough  to  suppress  the  sameness  of 
the  subject,  and  the  varying  of  one  subject  is  not  one 
subject  succeeding  another. 

A  subject  capable  of  sense-percepts  only  would  never 
become  capable  of  images  and  recollections.  Therefore  a 
subject  must  initially  be  capable  of  recollecting.  It 
must  initially  be  a  unity  of  its  own  elements — elements 
not  belonging  to  other  particular  formations,  nor  yet  to 
the  whole  except  in  so  far  as  the  subject  itself  is  included 
in  the  whole.  This  is  a  circumstance  of  which  we  must 
take  serious  account  in  an  investigation  into  the  for- 
mation of  subjects,  but  which  for  the  present  allows 
a  deeper  and  more  exact  view  of  the  nature  of  the 
subject  than  if  we  limit  ourselves  to  considering  only  the 
unity  of  sensory  consciousness. 


Permanence  is  essential   to  recollection — a  perman- 
ence  sui  generis,  as  we  said,  not  obtainable  from  any- 
thing else,  nor  reducible  to  anything  else.      It 

Unconscious-      .       .  c  IIP  •    *  riT 

ness  essential  is  inseparable  from  the  subject,      lo  suppose 

to  the  subject.      ,  ,,        .  .  ,.. 

that  a  recollection  may  have,  like  the  sense- 
perceivables,  an  existence  independent  of  that  of  a 
determinate  subject,  while  it  can  only  be  included  in 
the  consciousness  of  one  determinate  subject,  is  non- 
sense. Per  contra — I  do  not  always  recollect  all  that  I 


Memory,  Feeling,  Action  77 

can  recollect,  or  rather  I  never  recollect  more  than  a 
minute  part  of  it.  A  recollection  which  occurs  to  me 
informs  me  by  its  very  occurrence  that  it  was  not  present 
before — the  "before"  being  sometimes  a  very  long 
period.  That  recollections  come  and  go,  disappear  to 
reappear  more  or  less  varied,  and  change  with  time 
and  other  circumstances,  are  facts  not  only  accessible  to 
the  roughest  observation,  but  which  force  themselves 
upon  it. 

Therefore — we  must  admit  it — the  subject  is  not 
unity  of  consciousness  only  :  it  is  at  the  same  time  unity 
of  consciousness  and  unconsciousness.  And  let  us  not  be 
troubled  by  the  accusation  of  contradiction.  Admitting 
the  hypothesis  that  the  subject  is  only  a  certain  unity  of 
consciousness,  to  say  of  an  element  that  it  is  not  included 
in  that  unity  of  consciousness,  and  that  nevertheless  it  is 
included  in  the  unity  of  that  subject,  is  contradictory  ; 
but  we  consider  that  hypothesis  erroneous. 

We  do  not  wish  to  withdraw  anything  of  what  has 
been  established.  But  we  recognise  that  what  has  been 
established  requires  a  complement.  The  unity  of  con- 
sciousness cannot  stand  by  itself.  It  requires,  in  order 
to  exist,  a  unity  of  unconsciousness  inseparably  associated 
with  it.  The  elements  which  are  not  included  in  a  unity 
of  consciousness,  but  which  cannot  be  dissociated  from 
it  without  destroying  it,  are  also  constituents  of  the 
subject.  Of  all  this  we  must  render  to  ourselves  a  very 
clear  and  explicit  account.  We  shall  see  that  we  are 
not  building  up  hypotheses  without  foundation.  Let 
us  content  ourselves  with  setting  forth  the  thing  as 
it  is.  We  are  dealing  with  a  thing  which  all  know  in 
substance,  but  on  which  few  reflect,  while  the  reflection 
of  those  few  who  do  so  is  often  disturbed  by  doctrinal 
preconceptions.  Therefore  the  reader  who  desires  to 
understand  must  help  himself  a  little. 


78  The  Great  Problems 

Consciousness  and  unconsciousness  are,  of  course, 
understood  in  relation  to  a  determinate  subject.  We 
cannot  speak  of  absolute  unconsciousness.  Sense-per- 
ceivables  are  not  facts  of  absolute  unconsciousness. 
But  not  all,  nor  yet  the  greater  number,  are  perceived 
by  a  determinate  subject.  They  exist,  they  persist 
(those  that  do  persist),  and  they  vary  even  outside  of  a 
certain  unity  of  consciousness  in  a  sphere  of  (relative) 
unconsciousness.  What  is  true  of  the  sense-perceivables 
must  also  be  said  of  elements  of  another  species,  i.e. 
here  of  representations  and  recollections.  They  are 
facts  of  consciousness — a  recollection,  whether  present 
to  me  or  not,  is  always  the  same  thing,  therefore  always 
a  fact  of  consciousness,  since  there  is  no  doubt  that  it  is 
such  when  it  is  present  to  me — but  they  are  not  of 
necessity,  nor  always,  included  in  the  unity  of  con- 
sciousness of  the  subject. 

Between  recollections  on  the  one  hand  and  sense- 
perceivables  on  the  other,  there  is,  however,  a  difference. 
The  sense-perceivables  have  no  essential  relation  to  the 
subject. 

The  blue  of  the  sky  which  I  see,  others  see  also.  It 
would  not  be  so  easy  for  others  to  search  among  my 
papers,  but  this  would  be  a  difficulty  perhaps  physically 
insuperable  but  not  of  absolute  intrinsic  impossibility. 
But  the  representations  and  recollections  which  are  or 
may  be  included  in  my  consciousness  cannot  be  included 
in  any  other  consciousness— the  "cannot"  indicating 
here  an  absolute  and  intrinsic  impossibility.  Repre- 
sentations and  recollections  are  in  this  respect  like 
feelings  (though  in  another  they  are  more  like  sense- 
perceivables).  There  is  no  headache  which  can.  like  the 
blue  of  the  sky,  exist  independently  of  every  subject  or 
be  included  in  the  consciousness  of  any  subject  whatever. 
My  headache  is  mine  only,  and  if  it  ceases  to  exist  as 


Memory,  Feeling,  Action  79 

mine,  if  I  no  longer  have  it,  it  has  in  fact  ceased  to  exist. 
So  my  representation  and  my  recollection  are  mine  only. 
No  one  else  can  have  them.  But  there  is  another  dif- 
ference. My  headache  that  has  ceased  has  ceased  entirely. 
I  can  recollect  it,  but  to  recollect  it  is  not  to  have  it  over 
again.  I  can  "have  it  again,"  but  what  is  improperly 
called  "having  it  again"  is  really  having  another.  To 
have  a  headache  two,  three,  or  ten  times  is  to  have  two, 
three,  or  ten  headaches.  For  a  stone  to  fall  again  is  a 
new  fact — not  the  repetition  of  the  same  fact  which 
was  its  first  fall — whereas  a  recollection  which  is 
repeated  must  be  the  same.  There  may  be  diversities, 
but  something  must  be  numerically  the  same  in  the 
original  recollection  and  in  that  which  reappears,  or  the 
reappearance  would  not  be  a  reappearance.  We  must 
needs  say,  then,  that  the  recollections,  even  when  they 
are  not  present,  persist — partially  at  any  rate — outside 
the  consciousness  of  the  subject,  in  a  sphere  of  uncon- 
sciousness, which  is  nevertheless  inseparably  associated 
with  the  consciousness  of  the  subject,  so  that  it  would 
vanish  with  it. 

We  said  that  the  subject  was  a  unity  of  conscious- 
ness and  unconsciousness,  and  we  have  now  made  the 
sense  clear,  and  have  justified  what  we  said.  The 
assertion,  which  might  at  first  seem  obscure  and  hypo- 
thetical, is  only  the  pure  and  simple  statement  of  an 
incontrovertible  fact. 

Let  us  notice  this  too.  In  having  ascertained 
that  the  subject  implies  essentially  a  sphere  of  uncon- 
sciousness, we  have  formed  for  ourselves  a  more 
adequate  conception  of  what  the  subject  is.  We  under- 
stand better  that  the  subject,  although  as  a  sentient 
being  only  a  point  of  interference  of  sense-perceivables 
which  have  no  essential  relation  to  it,  cannot  be 
reduced  to  such  a  point  of  interference. 


8o  The  Great  Problems 


VI 

The  things  of  which  we  have  spoken  briefly  are  con- 
nected with  a  number  of  physiological  problems.     But 
they  hold  £ood,  whatever  be  the  true  solutions 

The  sirriG 

argument       of  those  problems,  and  they  are  sufficient  for 

continued.  '      ,1  •  i  -n 

our  purpose.  Something,  however,  we  will 
add  which  may  help  us  to  a  clear  understanding  of 
what  has  been  said.  This  section  and  the  following 
may  be  considered  as  digressions. 

Between  the  consciousness  and  unconsciousness  which 
constitute  a  subject,  there  is  no  precise  distinction,  as  all 
know.  It  may  be  well  compared  with  the  different 
clearness  of  our  seeings  according  to  the  part  of  the  retina 
on  which  the  light  falls.  We  see  well  the  bodies  whose 
retinal  image  is  formed  on  the  macula  lutea.  The 
others  we  only  see  confusedly.  It  is  not  that  we  have 
clear  consciousness  of  something  confused,  as,  for  instance, 
when  we  do  not  see  well,  however  carefully  we  look, 
because  the  light  is  insufficient ;  we  are  really  less 
conscious  of  them.  The  same  may  be  said  in  reference 
to  all  the  sensations.  For  instance,  while  we  are 
attentive  to  one  noise  (to  distinguish  whether  it  comes 
from  indoors  or  out,  &c.),  we  are  much  less  conscious  of 
all  the  others,  which  we  still  perceive  in  some  degree. 
There  are  grades  in  consciousness.  We  go  from  an 
indefinite  maximum  to  an  absolute  minimum  which  is 
unconsciousness,  but  where  consciousness  ceases  and  its 
light  vanishes  no  one  can  say.  Therefore  all  recognise  a 
subconsciousness,  between  consciousness  and  uncon- 
sciousness, doubtless  with  reason  ;  but  it  is  only  right  to 
note  that  consciousness  grades  insensibly  into  subcon- 
sciousness, and  this  again  into  unconsciousness. 

This   proves   how  necessary  it  is  to  distinguish   be- 


Memory,  Feeling,  Action  81 

tween  the  consciousness  that  constitutes  a  fact  and  the 
consciousness  which  a  subject  can  have  of  the  same  fact. 
It  proves  that  the  unity  of  subjective  consciousness  is 
truly,  as  we  said,  a  relation  between  facts  which  are 
certainly  facts  of  consciousness,  but  not  always  neces- 
sarily of  one  consciousness,  of  a  consciousness  which  con- 
stitutes a  subject.  A  given  fact  remaining  always  the 
same  is  more  or  less  strictly  bound  up 1  with  others 
which  are  already  in  my  consciousness,  and,  according  as 
the  bond  is  more  or  less  strict,  I  am  more  or  less  con- 
scious of  the  fact.  The  fact  falls,  with  respect  to  me,  in 
the  zone  of  my  clear  consciousness,  or  into  that  of  my 
dark  consciousness,  or  into  that  of  my  unconsciousness. 

Finally,  the  fact  may  fall  altogether  outside  my  con- 
sciousness, remaining  always  bound  up2  with  those  which 
are  included  in  my  consciousness.  The  unconsciousness 
into  which  the  fact  then  falls  can  be  called  mine,  inas- 
much as  it  is  bound  up  with  my  consciousness  and  with 
mine  only ;  and  it  may  be  added,  inasmuch  as  the 
existence  of  such  a  zone  of  unconsciousness  is  a  condition 
of  the  existence  of  my  consciousness.  Since  my  con- 
sciousness grades  insensibly  into  subconsciousness  and 
into  unconsciousness,  it  cannot  be  denied  that  a  certain 
zone  of  unconsciousness  (which  can  be  called  mine}  con- 
stitutes the  ground  in  which  alone  my  consciousness  is 
rooted  and  by  which  it  is  nourished.  It  is,  in  short,  a 
condition  of  the  possibility  of  my  consciousness. 

1  Such  a  bond  is,  as  we  have  said,  sui  generis,  altogether  different  from 
that  which  constitutes  a  body  of  several  sense-perceivables. 

2  The  bond  is  a  relation  which  is  always  of  the  same  kind — that  is,  always 
one  and  the  same  law,  making  itself  felt  in  a  different  way. 


82  The  Great  Problems 

VII 

All  that  is  not  actually  in  the  consciousness  or  subcon- 
sciousness  of  a  subject  falls,  with  respect  to  that  subject, 
Diverse  zones  into  unconsciousness.  But  the  unconscious- 

of  uncon -  .  1  . 

sciouBneus       ness  that  is  related  to  a  subject  is  not  all  ot 

essential  to  a  .  . ,     .  ,,..,,. 

subject.  a  piece;  it  is  subdivided  into  many  zones 
between  which  we  must  distinguish.  In  the  first  place, 
the  psychical  facts  peculiar  to  a  subject — representations, 
recollections,  and  others  on  which  we  shall  touch — fall  in 
every  case,  with  respect  to  any  other  subject,  into  the 
zone  of  absolute  unconsciousness.  A  representation  of 
Titius  never  is,  and  never  can  be,  included  in  the  conscious- 
ness of  Sempronius.  Not  that  it  cannot  have  any  sort  of 
relation  to  Sempronius.  The  representations  of  Titius 
have  influence  on  what  Titius  says  to  Sempronius,  and 
therefore  on  Sempronius.  But  the  psychical  facts  pe- 
culiar to  a  subject  can  never  have  any  but  a  mediate 
relation  to  another,  inasmuch  as  they  are  connected 
(still  mediately  as  a  rule)  with  elements  which  can  be 
included  in  the  consciousness  of  the  other  subject. 
Secondly,  every  sense-perceivable  not  actually  perceived 
by  a  subject  may  be  said  to  be  comprised  in  the 
unconsciousness  of  the  same  subject.  The  entire  physical 
world  would  then  be  included  either  in  the  consciousness 
or  unconsciousness  of  any  subject  whatever.  In  fact  no 
sense-perceivable  exists  which  cannot  by  its  very  nature 
be  perceived  by  any  subject  whatever.  Besides  the 
sense- perceivables  are  all  connected  among  themselves, 
and  therefore  with  those  which  are  and  may  be  included 
in  the  consciousness  of  a  subject — that  is,  they  are  all 
connected  with  the  subject. 

But  there  is  great  variety  among  these  connections. 
We  cannot  possibly1  see  the  opposite  face  of  the  moon. 

1  The  impossibility  is  physical,  not  essential. 


Memory,  Feeling,  Action  83 

A  variation  of  Sirius,  which  is  not  brilliant  or  very 
intense,  escapes  our  notice.  All  the  physical  world 
belongs  in  a  certain  sense  to  each  of  us  ;  but  certain  parts 
of  it  (not  the  same  for  each)  belong  to  us  more  peculiarly 
—those  whose  sense-perceivables  can  be  perceived  in 
greater  number  and  exercise  a  stronger  influence  on  what 
is  perceived.  Therefore  we  say  our  (visible)  sky,  our 
earth,  our  sea,  our  country,  our  mountains,  our  town,  our 
parish,  our  house,  our  rooms,  our  furniture,  our  clothes- 
all  that  we  commonly  call  ours — belongs,  if  it  is  not  per- 
ceived, to  a  zone  of  unconsciousness  which  is  the  more 
peculiarly  ours  as  the  relations  between  us  and  the 
elements  included  in  it  are  more  close. 

Thirdly.  Each  of  us  has  a  body.  Of  the  sense- 
perceivables  which  constitute  it,  very  few — i.e.  only  some 
of  those  which  are  elements  of  the  nervous  system — are 
perceived  immediately.  We  do  not  see  our  bodily  organs, 
and  only  perceive  them  confusedly.  We  only  see  the 
outside  of  our  own  body  as  we  do  in  the  case  of  another. 
And  yet  we  consider  our  body  ours  in  the  closest  and 
strictest  sense — as  an  essential  constituent  of  ourselves. 
No  need  to  say  why.  Those  elements  of  our  body  which 
are,  and  habitually  remain,  outside  our  consciousness 
are  essential  to  those  others  which  are  essential  to  our 
consciousness,  and  a  variation  of  the  first  can,  and  for  the 
most  part  does,  determine  in  the  second,  and  therefore 
in  consciousness,  a  variation  which  is  much  greater  in 

o 

quantity  and  importance. 

That  group  of  sense-perceivables,  by  which  our  body 
is  constituted,  constitutes,  in  so  far  as  it  is  outside  our 
consciousness,  the  zone  of  unconsciousness  which  we  can 
more  truly  call  ours. 

Lastly,  recollections,  when  they  are  not  actual  (and 
those  not  actual  are  always  the  more  numerous)  also  consti- 
tute a  zone  of  unconsciousness  which  is  ours  in  the  same 


84  The  Great  Problems 

sense  as  our  body.  A  recollection  ceasing  to  be  actual 
(to  be  in  consciousness)  cannot  have  vanished,  because 
in  that  case  that  same  one  could  never  return,  and  the 
fact  which  is  usually  called  the  reappearance  of  a 
recollection  would  be  an  entirely  new  fact.  Now  we 
have  seen  that  a  fact  entirely  new  cannot  be  a  recollec- 
tion, a  thing  already  recognised  and  expressed  in  common 
language.  Recollections  do  return,  re-present  them- 
selves ;  therefore  a  recollection  which  is  forgotten  is 
not  annihilated — it  has  only  fallen  from  the  zone  of 
consciousness  into  that  of  unconsciousness,  passing,  as 
we  can  sometimes  observe,  through  a  zone  of  sub- 
consciousness. 

A  recollection  that  I  forget  is  as  little  annihilated  as 
the  noise  of  the  train  which  transports  me,  a  noise 
which  I  no  longer  perceive  because  I  have  gone  to  sleep. 
But  the  unconsciousness,  in  which  my  non -actual 
recollections  are,  is  exclusively  mine  because  the 
recollections  which  are  contained  in  it  can  emerge  and 
be  included  in  my  consciousness,  and  in  mine  only. 
Whether  in  any  case  they  can  be  annihilated  is  a 
question  which  we  shall  leave  undiscussed.  The  fact 
is  worthy  of  notice  that  sometimes,  in  consequence  of 
a  fortuitous  concurrence  of  circumstances,  we  unex- 
pectedly recollect  most  trifling  facts  which  occurred  long 
ago  and  which  we  had  never  recollected  in  the  interval. 

We  have  not  tried  to  distinguish  all  the  different 
zones  of  unconsciousness  or  to  show  clearly  their  different 
connections  with  consciousness,  but  what  has  been  said 
will  help  us  to  overcome  the  apparent  difficulty  that 
some  will  have  found  in  understanding  how  recollections 
can  persist  without  the  subject  having  consciousness 
of  them  and  while  they  are  inseparable  from  the  subject. 

Whether  recollections  and  representations  can  finally 
be  resolved  into  the  same  elements,  under  what  laws 


Memory,  Feeling,  Action  85 

these  elements  are  variously  grouped,  and  what  relation 
there  is  between  the  zone  of  unconsciousness  in  which 
they  remain  and  the  nervous  system,  are  questions 
which  we  shall  leave  unanswered. 


VIII 

What  we  usually  call  the  present  always  includes 
recollections.  To  see  a  body  well  I  must  observe  it  for 
some  time,  so  that  the  images  of  its  parts  may  Actualit  ^ 
become  distinct  one  by  one — one  after  the  memory: 

.   J.  -  potentiality 

other,  of  course.  Strictly  only  one  of  these  andpoBsi- 
images  is  present ;  if  they  did  not  all  persist 
as  recollections,  there  could  never  be  one  precise  vision 
of  the  body.  Recollections  are  always  associated  in  the 
sense-percept  to  make  it  a  whole.  Therefore  I  go  for  a 
walk  without  being  embarrassed  by  the  correlative 
changing  of  the  images  ;  I  see  as  books  the  things  which 
appear  to  me  on  the  shelves  by  my  side,  &c.  The  dog 
seeks  and  finds  his  master,  guided  by  scent.  By  scent 
alone  ?  No,  but  by  scent  associated  with  a  recollection 
—in  fact  he  seeks  and  finds  a  man,  not  only  a  more 
intense  scent.  The  actual  elements  presuppose  others 
which  are  not  actual  now,  but  which  can  become  so  again 
by  means  of  recollection.  They  presuppose  them,  be  it 
noted,  as  their  constituents,  not  as  simple  conditions  of 
existence,  not  as  the  son  presupposes  the  father,  but  as 
visible  extension  presupposes  light.  There  can  be  no 
present  without  an  essential  relation  with  a  past. 

To  know  signifies  to  remember.  A  professor  mounts 
the  platform  to  deliver  his  lecture.  He  is  prepared  for 
it,  he  knows  what  he  means  to  say.  In  what  sense 
does  he  know  it  ?  Has  he  the  whole  content  of  the 
lesson  present  in  a  single  act  of  the  thought  ?  Evidently 
not.  Then,  in  what  does  his  knowledge  consist  ?  In 


86  l^he  Great  Problems 

this,  that  a  certain  system  of  judgments  is  in  a 
determinate  relation  with  the  consciousness  of  the 
professor,  and  in  virtue  of  this  those  judgments  will 
be  thought  out  and  pronounced  successively  and  in 
order. 

Similarly,  a  boy  will  say  that  he  knows  (by  heart) 
quite  a  long  piece  of  poetry  of  which  he  hardly  under- 
stands a  word.  He  knows  the  words  in  the  order 
in  which  they  are  written  in  his  book.  He  knows  them, 
or  rather  can  recollect  them  one  after  another,  although 
actually  he  does  not  recollect  any. 

Between  the  two  cases  there  is  an  obvious  and 
important  difference.  The  professor  in  recollecting  his 
judgments  and  the  boy  his  words  are  guided,  the  one  by 
logical  relations,  the  other  by  mechanical  associations. 
The  professor  delivers  his  lecture  by  reasoning,  the  boy 
recites  his  much  in  the  same  way  as  a  phonograph  would. 
However,  both  affirm  justly,  "I  know  what  I  have 
to  say,  what  I  am  going  to  say."  Although  at  the 
moment  in  which  he  says,  "  I  know,"  he  has  not  in  his 
consciousness  one  of  the  judgments  or  one  of  the  words 
which  are  the  object  of  his  knowledge. 

Either  we  have  no  knowledge  at  all,  or  we  must  say 
that  besides  actual  knowledge  we  have  also  potential 
knowledge,  without  which  not  even  the  actual  knowledge 
could  exist.  This  "potential"  does  not  mean  simply 
"possible."  Not  every  possibility  of  mine  is  a  power  of 
mine.  None  of  the  houses  which  I  am  able  to  rent 
is  mine  in  the  same  sense  as  that  which  I  have  rented. 
In  the  same  way,  it  is  not  the  knowledge  which  I  am 
able  to  acquire  that  is  mine,  but  that  which  I  can  again 
render  actual  because  it  once  was  actual — that  which  I 
can  recollect. 

All  this  confirms  afresh  and  makes  us  understand 
better  how  essential  recollections  are  to  the  subject. 


Memory,  Feeling,  Action  87 

The  identity  of  the  subject  consists  in  the  identity,  or 
rather  in  the  permanence,  not  of  what  he  actually 
recollects,  but  of  the  entire  group  of  his  possible  recol- 
lections— a  group  preserved  in  the  unity  of  uncon- 
sciousness inseparably  associated  with  the  unity  of 
consciousness.  It  explains  further  how  the  subject  can 
guide  himself  in  perceivable  reality  and  represent  it  to 
himself,  although  the  sense-percepts  are  far  fewer  than 
the  perceivables  and  are  in  part  different  and  differently 
arranged.  The  laws  which  dominate  sense -perceivables, 
although  different  from  those  of  the  percepts,  succeed  by 
means  of  representations  and  recollections  in  making 
themselves  prevail  in  consciousness  independently  of 
explicit  reflective  knowledge.  At  least  they  succeed 
enough  for  conduct  to  be  regulated  by  them. 


IX 

A  subject  who  was  sentient  only,  would  only  be 
the  unity  of  the  sense -perceivables  perceived.  He  would 
have  nothing  really  his  own.  His  existence  -mat  which  is 
could  be  resolved  into  a  relation  between  i^t^sub* 
certain  elements  to  which  that  relation  (I  do  ject 
not  say  every  relation)  would  be  accidental.  A  subject 
capable  of  representations  and  recollections  is  quite 
another  thing.  Representations  and  recollections  are 
peculiar  to  a  particular  subject,  because  they  do  not 
exist  sensibly  or  insensibly  apart  from  it.  They  presup- 
pose a  subject  who  has  an  intrinsic  existence  of  his  own. 

But  representations  and  recollections  preserve  and 
fix  the  facts  of  which  they  are  representations  and 
recollections  ;  they  do  not  change  their  character  funda- 
mentally. Consciousness  by  means  of  representations 
and  recollections  acquires  a  stable  organisation,  but 
acquires  only  the  organisation.  A  subject  which  per- 


88 

ceives,  and  in  addition  represents  to  itself  and  recollects 
what  it  has  perceived,  does  not  have  consciousness— 
rather  it  is  only  the  consciousness  of  a  content.  The 
content  is  more  connected,  more  organic,  less  accidentally 
variable,  than  if  it  consisted  only  of  perceivables  per- 
ceived. But  it  is  always  a  content  of  which  the  subject 
is  simply  an  indifferent  spectator — a  spectator  forgetful 
of  himself,  entirely  absorbed  in  the  spectacle. 

From  the  hill  where  I  am  lying  on  the  grass  I  see 
the  landscape  before  me — a  bundle  of  sense-percepts, 
made  into  a  whole  by  a  bundle  of  recollections.  Suppose 
I  neither  enjoy  nor  suffer,  do  nothing — do  not  even 
think — my  consciousness  is  occupied  entirely  by  the 
landscape — is  the  landscape.  Certainly,  I  know  well 
that  I  am  something  else,  because  the  landscape  which 
I  see  delights  me,  because  I  do  something,1  because  my 
recollections  cannot  be  reduced  to  those  alone  which 
integrate  my  seeing,  because,  even  if  I  do  not  purposely 
follow  any  order  of  thoughts,  I  at  any  rate  do  think. 
The  supposition  is  not  and  cannot  be  true,  but  if  it  were 
true  I  should  only  be  a  spectator  absorbed  in  the 
spectacle,  indistinguishable  from  the  spectacle,  although 
the  spectacle  is  not  a  simple  bundle  of  sense-percepts, 
but  a  bundle  of  percepts  associated  by  the  recollections 
which  integrate  them. 

A  subject  suffers.  Suppose  that  in  its  consciousness 
there  was  nothing  but  that  suffering  (let  us  neglect  the 
impossibility  of  realising  our  supposition),  this  subject 
could  be  reduced  to  that  suffering.  It  would  not  say 
"  I  suffer."  Because  this  judgment  implies  that  the 
"  I  "  distinguishes  itself  from  the  suffering.  It  may  be 
something  of  which  the  suffering  is  a  mood,  a  state ; 
still  it  cannot  be  reduced  to  the  suffering  only.  Nor 

1  Even  if  I  am  lying  down,  I  am  not  relaxed  as  if  I  slept :   I  contract 
some  muscles,  I  make  some  movement. 


Memory,  Feeling,  Action  89 

would  it  lament — lamentation  is  a  fact  of  consciousness 
which  differs  from  suffering. 

There  is  no  one  who  does  not  recognise  this.  Such 
a  subject  would  be  less  different  from  what  we  know  it 
to  be  than  one  whose  consciousness  only  included  sense- 
percepts  plus  representations  and  recollections  of  sense- 
percepts,  and  in  short  could  be  reduced  to  a  spectacle. 
Let  us  make  -another  supposition — let  one  of  us  know 
that  starting  from  a  given  instant  his  consciousness  will 
be  reduced  either  to  consciousness  of  nothing  but  con- 
tents (of  sense-percepts  and  their  relative  recollections) 
or  to  consciousness  of  a  pure  and  simple  pain.  Suppose 
he  has  to  choose  between  the  two  destinies.  In  choosing 
the  first  he  would  seem  to  himself  to  be  choosing  his 
own  annihilation,  and  in  choosing  the  second  he  would 
think  he  chose  his  own  unhappiness.  Our  perceptions 
are  an  important  part  of  ourselves,  but  only  because  we 
are  something  else  also.  A  perception  which  could 
exist  alone  would  have  neither  importance  nor  intrinsic 
reality.  Its  existence  would  be  the  same  as  its  non- 
existence.  A  pain,  although  it  cannot  have  a  separate 
existence  any  more  than  a  perception,  has  in  itself,  and 
as  such,  an  importance  and  intrinsic  reality.  The  per- 
ceptive consciousness  only  exists  outside  us  in  the 
spectacle  in  which  it  is  absorbed  and  which  constitutes 
it.  That  consciousness  which  is  feeling  is  truly  internal ; 

it  exists  for  itself. 

• 

X 

The  perceptive  consciousness  and  the  feeling  con- 
sciousness are  not  separable.  There  is  no  content  (no 
sense-percept  or  representation  or  recollection  insepara- 

.  .  bility  of  per- 

oi    a    sense-percept)  which  is   not   associated  ceptions  and 
with  some  feeling- ;  there  is  no  feeling  which  activity.' 
is  not  associated  with  some  content.     These  two  forms 


90  The  Great  Problems 

of  consciousness  are  really  only  two  forms — two  faces 
of  the  same  reality.  The  element  which  connects 
them,  the  profound  reality  which  is  manifested  in  each 
of  them,  is  action. 

I  awake.  Immediately  my  consciousness  is  invaded  by 
a  number  of  sense-percepts;  I  hear  noises;  in  the  twilight, 
I  half  see  some  shapes  (of  walls  or  furniture)  which  vary 
as  I  turn  my  eyes  carelessly,  and  so  on  ;  representations 
and  recollections  arise  and  succeed  each  other.  Scarcely 
has  the  content  of  consciousness  reappeared  than  it 
begins  to  vary.  A  clock  strikes  the  hour — two  o'clock 
in  the  morning.  I  am  sleepy — I  wish  I  had  not  waked 
so  early ;  I  am  glad  I  can  stay  in  bed  a  little  longer. 
Here  are  feelings  which  vary.  I  close  my  eyes,  and  turn 
over  to  go  to  sleep  again.  This  is  also  a  variation  but 
very  different  from  the  varying  of  contents  and  feelings 
— a  varying  which  is  an  action. 

There  is  no  subject  who  does  not  act.  The  first  and 
surest  evidence  of  the  existence  of  a  subject  is  given  by 
his  acting.  Every  living  cell  (and  every  subject  appears 
first  as  a  living  cell)  moves.  It  moves  spontaneously— 
that  is  to  say,  in  a  manner  which  can  be  understood,  but 
which  is  not  determined,  like  the  movement  of  a  water 
wheel,  by  facts  not  included  in  the  unity  of  the  cell, 
external  to  the  cell. 

A  bird  which  has  not  yet  learned  to  fly  falls  unless 
supported.  The  fall  is  determined  by  certain  laws,  and 
therefore,  given  favourable  circumstances,  it  necessarily 
falls.  Flight  does  not  necessarily  occur  in  any  circum- 
stances whatever,  or,  rather,  it  never  happens  until  the 
bird  has  acquired  certain  habits  and  gained  a  certain 
strength.  It  is  the  externalisation  of  an  activity  which 
to  externalise  itself  so  must  have  been  practised — must 
have  been  suitably  organised. 

It  is  true  that  every  subject  has  initially  an  intrinsic 


Memory,  Feeling,  Action  91 

organisation,  in  virtue  of  which  it  cannot  be  altogether 
ex  lege.  A  cell  which  develops  itself  develops  itself 
always  in  an  organism  like  that  in  which  it  has  been 
formed.  We  are  not  discussing  whether  an  organisation 
or  an  intrinsic  law  can  ever  determine  completely  every 
external  expression  of  activity.  Certain  proof  that  it  is 
so  does  not  exist,  and  evidence  to  the  contrary  is  not 
wanting.  The  internal  organisation  of  a  subject  goes 
on  completing  itself  in  time.  Therefore  it  would  appear 
that  it  never  is — or  at  least  certainly  not  from  the 
beginning — so  rigidly  fixed  as  to  exclude  all  possible 
indetermination.  Be  this  as  it  may  for  the  present,  we 
cannot  deny  that  the  organisation  or  the  law  which  is 
intrinsic  in  a  subject  is  a  constituent  of  the  subject, 
and  that  in  consequence  the  variation,  determined  by 
that  law,  is  only  determined  in  substance  by  the  subject. 
Between  that  variation  which  is  due  to  what  I  am,  and 
that  which,  though  due  in  part  to  what  I  am,  is  also  due 
to  laws  which  unite  me  to  something  else,  there  is  a 
distinction  not  to  be  neglected.  This  is  expressed  by 
saying  that  my  first  variation  constitutes  an  expression 
of  my  spontaneity,  an  acting  on  my  part. 

So  the  concept  of  spontaneous  activity  remains 
established ;  and  also  the  fact  that  spontaneous  activity 
cannot  be  denied  to  the  subject. 


XI 

The  subject,  in  so  far  as  its  consciousness  can  be 
reduced  to  a  unity  of  sense- percepts  even  when  associated 
with  representations  and  relative  recollections 

.,,  .  „  -,          i       Activity  and 

—or  rather,  we  will  say.  in  so  far  as  it  only  feelings: 

.  J  .  J     relative  inde- 

has  a  theoretic  consciousness — only  exists  out-  pendence  of 

side  itself  in  the  image.     Its  existence  consists 

in  the  existence  of  the  image.     Representations  also  and 


92  The  Great  Problems 

recollections  are  exclusively  facts  of  the  subject.  Like 
feelings  and  unlike  sense-perceivables  perceived,  they 
can  only  be  realised  in  the  unity  of  the  subject.  But 
(we  are  speaking  of  those  which  can  be  referred  to  the 
sense-percepts)  they  are  the  subjective  mirroring  of  a 
reality  not  exclusively  subjective.  The  subject  in  them 
and  through  them  is  already  something  in  itself,  but  of 
an  "  in  itself"  all  turned  outwards,  consisting  of  a  repro- 
duction sui  generis  of  what  is  outside  it. 

In  feeling  the  subject  is  not  turned  outwards,  but  is 
enclosed  in  itself.  It  does  not  live  in  anything  else — it 
lives  itself.  To  enjoy,  to  suffer  (neglecting  associations 
with  other  elements  which  are  never  wanting),  are  forms 
of  consciousness  in  which  consciousness  is  only  in  rela- 
tion to  itself,  in  which  consciousness  or  the  subject 
exists  truly  by  itself,  possesses  a  reality,  the  concept  of 
which  is  not  the  concept  of  a  relation  to  anything  else 
— an  internal  reality. 

But  feeling,  although  it  does  not  consist  in  a  relation 
to  what  is  outside,  is  in  manifest  dependence  on  what 
is  outside.  The  simplest  feelings  (physiological  pleasures 
and  pains)  are  bound  by  fixed  laws  to  the  sense-per- 
ceivables perceived  ;  they  are  determined  by  them.  So 
that  the  fate  of  a  subject  which  was  capable  (theoretic 
consciousness  apart)  of  feelings  alone  would  be  in  the 
power  of  external  happenings.  The  subject  would  exist 
in  itself,  but  in  a  condition  of  absolute  dependence. 

The  subject,  which  acts,  which  makes  itself  the  con- 
dition of  change — within  certain  limits — (l)  of  external 
reality  in  more  immediate  relation  to  itself,  and  (2)  of 
its  own  situation  in  face  of  external  reality,  frees  itself, 
to  a  certain  extent,  from  the  aforesaid  dependence.  It 
exists  otherwise  than  as  only  turned  outwards  or  as 
only  turned  inwards.  It  is  an  inwardness  which  makes 
itself  felt  as  such  within  and  without.  Consequently 


Memory,  Feeling,  Action  93 

the  existence  of  the  subject  has  its  root  in  its  spon- 
taneity. Not  that  the  other  forms  of  consciousness 
must  be  considered  only  apparent — the  appearance  of 
consciousness  is  its  existence.  But  the  other  forms 
would  not  be  possible  without  the  spontaneity.  They 
are  produced  by  this,  or  result  from  it,  as  we  shall  briefly 
show. 

We  understand  that  both  feelings  and  actions  have 
representations  and  recollections,  and  representations 
and  recollections  have  the  same  conservative  and 
organising  function  on  feelings  and  actions  which  we  have 
mentioned  in  reference  to  theoretic  consciousness.  The 
unity  of  consciousness  in  each  of  its  forms,  and  the  unity 
of  all  these  forms  together,  are  not  possible  without  this 
function.  Therefore  feelings  also  and  actions  are  con- 
nected with  the  unconsciousness  peculiar  to  the  subject, 
and  presuppose  it.  A  feeling — so  we  have  said  and 
repeat — has  no  existence  except  as  actual.  But  we  can 
remember  having  had  a  feeling  of  such  and  such  a  kind 
without  its  being  therefore  necessary  to  experience 
actually  a  similar  one.1  And  every  feeling  has  rela- 
tions sometimes  quite  evident,  to  unconsciousness.  For 
instance,  a  man  will  experience  a  feeling  of  irritation  or 
of  mortification  due  to  a  circumstance  which  he  does  not 
recollect,  and  which  he  forces  himself  not  to  recollect 
because  he  knows  that  the  recollection  would  intensify 
the  actual  feeling.  It  is  impossible  to  deny  that  that 
irritation  and  that  mortification  are  connected  with 
something  that  is  not  in  consciousness. 

As  to  action,  we  must  reason  in  quite  another  way. 
We  act  both  consciously  and  unconsciously.  And  there 
is  an  infinity  of  different  grades  of  consciousness  between 
the  most  clearly  conscious  action,  volition,  and  the  less 

1  An  actual  similar  feolin^  would  ho  in  every  case  a  now  fact,  numeri- 
cally distinct  from  the  first,  not  the  representation  of  tho  same  one. 


94  The  Great  Problems 

conscious  and  the  most  unconscious.  Our  body  is  a 
storehouse  of  energies  which  find  expression  in  great 
part — some  always,  others  usually — without  our  con- 
sciousness, or  only  with  a  consciousness  quite  different 
from  that  of  an  action  of  our  own.  For  instance,  when 
one  of  my  muscles  is  contracted  under  the  action  of  a 
stimulus,  even  though  it  be  within  my  body,  I  have 
cognitive  consciousness,  associated  with  a  pain,  of  the 
contraction  and  the  consequent  movement,  but  not  the 
consciousness  of  my  having  acted.  Many,  however,  of 
the  energies  latent  in  the  organism  which  are  generally 
unconscious  can  become  conscious  in  such  a  way  that 
their  self-expression  constitutes  the  consciousness  of  an 
action.  In  these  cases  we  say  that  our  vigour  has 
increased,  and  it  has  really  been  increased  by  elements 
that  have  become  conscious  from  being  unconscious.  A 
man  accustomed  to  stop  before  every  little  difficulty, 
becoming  suddenly  involved  in  extraordinarily  difficult 
circumstances,  can  sometimes  (the  case  is  rare,  but  not 
unheard  of)  find  the  energy  to  make  up  his  mind  to  act 
like  a  man,  only  perhaps  to  fall  back  afterwards  into  his 
wonted  apathy. 


XII 

Activity  could  never  be  developed  in  a  consciousness 
that  was  exclusively  theoretic.  On  the  other  hand,  it  is 
Activity  and  n°t  difficult  to  comprehend  how  a  practical  con- 
conditfonSig8  sciousness  must  in  .virtue  of  its  very  activity 
each  other.  enlarge  itself  and  include  sense-percepts. 

The  expression  of  activity  is  always,  in  a  great 
variety  of  grades  and  modes,  limited,  disturbed,  and 
hindered  from  coming  into  conflict  with  facts  which  may 
or  may  not  be  expressions  of  other  analogous  activities, 
but  which  on  the  whole  are  riot  essentially  different 


Memory,  Feeling,  Action  95 

from  them.  At  a  given  instant  a  subject  might  give 
expression  to  the  fact  A.  The  fact  B,  extraneous  to 
the  consciousness  of  the  subject,  limits,  disturbs,  and 
hinders  the  expression  A.  This  interference  of  B  with 
A  is  an  inclusion  of  B  in  the  consciousness  of  the  subject. 
This  is  pretty  much  what  takes  place  in  sensation.1 

That  such  an  inclusion  takes  place — neglecting  all 
particulars — in  the  manner  indicated  is  incontestable. 
If  reality  did  not  limit,  disturb,  and  hinder  our 
spontaneous  actions,  we  should  never  recognise  external 
reality.  Our  apprehension  of  it  is  not  our  being  disturbed 
—it  consists  in  perceiving  certain  perceivables  and  in- 
cluding them  in  our  theoretic  consciousness ;  but  the 
perceivables  come  to  be  included  in  our  consciousness 
(which  so  becomes  theoretic)  because  they  interfere 
with,  and  disturb,  our  action. 

An  activity  which  did  not  express  itself,  which  did 
not  act,  would  not  really  be  activity.  It  is  incredible  that 
consciousness  is  at  first  only  practical,  and  afterwards 
enlarges  itself  and  includes  a  content.  The  self- 
expression,  essential  to  the  consciousness  being  really 
practical,  is  at  the  same  time  an  inclusion  in  that 
consciousness  of  the  sense-perceivables  which  are  per- 
ceived. Activity  and  receptivity  presuppose  and  con- 
dition each  other.  There  is  not  first  a  subject  whose 
consciousness  then  enriches  itself  with  contents.  The 
existence  of  a  subject  as  a  centre  of  activity  and  the 
existence  of  that  same  subject  as  a  centre  of  theoretic 
consciousness  is  the  same  thing.  It  is  superfluous 
to  note  that  the  first  secure  evidence  of  the  existence 
of  a  subject,  if  it  is  the  manifestation  of  a  spontaneous 

1  A  psychological  doctrine  as  to  exactly  how,  in  what  conditions,  and 
under  what  laws,  the  consciousness  of  the  subject  includes  in  itself  elements 
which  were  extraneous  to  it,  but  which  must  be  capable  of  inclusion  in  it, 
would  be  out  of  place  here.  Wo  are  not  concerned  with  the  "  how,"  but 
simply  with  the  fact. 


96  The  Great  Problems 

activity,  is  at  the  same  time  the  manifestation  of  the 
activity  of  a  body — of  the  body  of  the  subject.  And  the 
consciousness  of  the  subject,  as  a  unity  sui  generis  of 
some  seuse-perceivables  associated  with  others  in  the 
physiological  unity  of  a  body,  is  always  theoretic  ;  while, 
as  the  unity  of  the  energies  developed  by  that  body, 
it  is  at  the  same  time  and  eo  ipso  practical. 

The  theoretic  consciousness  cannot  be  an  absolute 
creation  of  the  practical  one  beccause  each  presupposes 
the  other.  And  the  aptitude  for  recollecting,  as  we 
have  already  noted,  is  not  producible  in  any  way.  It 
is  necessarily  a  characteristic  of  consciousness :  it  is 
theoretic  and  primitive.  We  have  only  proved,  and 
have  only  wished  to  prove,  one  thing — viz.  Activity, 
although  the  existence  of  a  first  nucleus  of  it  requires  the 
coexistence  of  a  nucleus  of  theoretic  consciousness,  and 
gives  rise  itself  in  its  self-expression  to  the  develop- 
ment of  the  subject.  It  does  not  create  the  theoretic 
consciousness,  but  every  further  enrichment  of  this  and 
the  successive  complication  of  the  subject  are  results 
of  activity.  If  this  were  suspended,  all  the  external 
conditions  favourable  to  the  enrichment  of  the  theoretic 
consciousness  would  be  in  vain. 


XIII 

The  subject  is,  then,  principally  a  centre  of  conscious 

activity.       Principally,    but    not    solely,    even    in    the 

beginning.     With  the  practical  consciousness 

The  three  °. 

fundamental    a  theoretic  one  must  be  associated  from  the 

characteris-  ATI  •  <• 

ticBorthesub-  very  nrst.  And  the  unity  01  these  two 
elements  is  not  yet  sufficient  to  give  us  an 
adequate  concept  of  a  real  subject,  no  matter  how 
embryonic.  The  subject  is  capable  of  feeling,  or  rather 
feeling  is  essential  to  it,  because  a  subject  without 


Memory,  Feeling,  Action  97 

feeling  would  care  nothing  for  itself  or  anything  else — 
such  a  subject  would  have  no  existence  for  itself,  would 
not  strictly  exist  at  all.  Now  feeling,  like  activity, 
and  like  theoretic  consciousness,  is  not  derivable  from 
anything  else ;  it  is  not  producible  in  any  collection  of 
facts  which  does  not  already  imply  it.  We  must,  then, 
recognise  three  characteristics  in  the  subject — activity, 
theoretic  consciousness,  and  feeling.  Three  charac- 
teristics, not  three  things  each  of  which  can  exist  alone 
and  which  unite  to  constitute  the  subject,  but  three 
characteristics  essential  to  the  subject,  inseparable  from, 
and  irreducible  to,  one  another.  Between  activity  and 
feeling  there  is  a  relation  similar  to  that  between 
activity  and  theoretic  consciousness.  The  transforma- 
tions of  feeling  and  the  formation  of  new  feelings  are 
the  results  of  activity  (and  of  its  association  with  the 
theoretic  consciousness,  but  the  transformations  of  this 
are  in  their  turn  the  results  of  activity).  On  the  other 
hand,  activity  could  not  produce  those  results,  nor  exist 
at  all,  if  it  were  not  from  the  beginning  associated  with 
a  feeling  and  one  with  it. 

I  shall  not  say  that  it  is  necessary  to  the  subject 
to  act  in  order  to  obtain  pleasures  and  avoid  pains. 
The  movements  of  a  new-born  child  are  without  any 
purpose — and  we  who  propose  ends  to  ourselves  propose 
some  that  are  quite  different  from  enjoying  or  not 
suffering  physiologically.  But  the  new-born  child 
would  not  move,  we  should  not  act,  if  the  movement 
were  indifferent  to  him  and  the  action  to  us.  An 
indifferent  activity  would  only  be  a  cause  ;  but  a  simple 
cause — let  us  even  suppose  a  cause  which  recognises  its 
effects  without  caring  about  them — does  not  correspond 
with  what  we  know  and  can  reasonably  deduce  about 
the  activity  of  a  subject.  A  subject  which  cares  nothing 
about  what  it  does  is  not  a  subject  which  acts.  Remove 

G 


98  The  Great  Problems 

the  part  a  subject  takes  in  its  actions,  and  these  can  no 
longer  be  called  its  actions.  They  will  be  reduced  to  a 
natural  happening  (physical  or  physiological)  associated 
with  the  subject. 

The  further  effects  of  an  expression  of  activity 
depend  in  general  on  the  internal  organisation  of  the 
subject  and  on  its  relations  with  its  surroundings.  The 
expression  by  itself  and  as  such  is  pleasing,  or,  in  a 
complex  subject  and  for  a  certain  kind  of  expression, 
satisfying.  But  it  is  always  associated  with  a  pain. 
Activity,  in  fact,  cannot  express  itself  except  by  inter- 
fering with  some  other  fact,  overcoming  an  obstacle, 
reacting  against  a  stimulus.  And  the  obstacle  and  the 
stimulus  hinder,  limit,  and  disturb  the  activity  which 
overcomes  or  reacts,  and  in  this  way  expresses  itself. 
The  consciousness  of  the  hindrance  is  by  itself,  and,  as 
such,  displeasing.  The  unpleasantness  of  the  disturbance 
and  the  pleasure  of  the  expression  are,  then,  inseparable. 
There  is  an  evident  instance  of  this  in  play — satis- 
faction and  disappointment  are  not  only  here  associated, 
but  they  condition  each  other.  Take  away  the  one,  and 
the  other  vanishes.  And,  on  the  whole,  it  is  so  every- 
where and  always. 

I  say  in  normal  circumstances,  and  neglecting  the 
transformations  which  the  feelings  undergo  in  con- 
sequence of  the  complication  of  the  consciousness — in 
particular  of  the  intelligent  consciousness.  A  leg  which 
I  break  gives  me  pain  with  which  no  pleasure  is  associated. 
But  among  the  ends  foreshowed  in  my  psycho-physical 
organism  there  is  no  breaking  of  a  leg.  It  will  be  said 
that  this  pain  is  not  due  to  a  disturbance  of  activity 
produced  by  an  obstacle.  The  unpleasantness  which  I 
experience  at  having  to  interrupt  my  occupations,  and 
stay  in  bed  for  a  month,  is  quite  different  from  the  pain 
under  discussion.  I  answer  that  the  leg  is  broken  precisely 


Memory,  Feeling,  Action  99 

because  it  encountered  an  obstacle  which  has  disturbed 
not  so  much  my  conscious  activity  (though  this  also,  all 
but  its  disturbance,  is  an  unpleasantness  and  not  a  pain) 
as  the  unconscious  energies  of  my  body,  which,  being 
disturbed  in  that  way,  have  reached  consciousness.  If 
anyone  is  not  contented  with  this  explanation,  let  him 
find  a  better  one.  From  my  broken  leg,  or  from  the 
unpleasantness  and  from  the  pain  which  are  consequences 
of  it,  I  can  derive  good — moral  good,  for  instance.  And 
this  costs  me  a  painful  effort.  But  here  we  should  be 
entering  on  those  complications  which  for  the  present  we 
have  decided  to  leave  on  one  side. 


CHAPTER  IV 

COGNITION 


THE  subject  succeeds   in   forming  for  itself  a   general 

representation  of  that  part  of  external  reality  which 

most  nearly  concerns  it.     It  succeeds  in  the 

How  the  con-     «  , 

gciousneas       first  place  because  the  reality,  a  small  part  of 

anduncon-  i  •  £•    •      i    j    J  •     -A  •  •         j      i 

BdousnesB  of    which  is  included  in  its  consciousness,  is  orderly 

a  subject  .  .  ,    .       .  .  T        ,'' 

become  or-  in  its  existence,  and  in  its  varying.  In  the 
second  place,  because  it  recollects  and  imagines, 
connecting  and  integrating  in  this  way  the  present  with 
the  past ;  pressing  forward  also  into  the  future  with  its 
aspirations,  fear,  and  desire.  In  the  third  place,  because 
it  acts.  Let  us  delay  a  moment  over  this  function  of 
action. 

The  consciousness  which  the  subject  has  of  its  move- 
ments, associated  with  external  sensations,  and  with 
recollections  of  external  sensations  and  of  its  own  move- 
ments, ends  by  drawing  a  distinction  among  the 
variations  which  take  place  in  the  perceivable  content. 
Some  are  apparent — that  is  to  say,  are  only  due  to  the 
movements  of  the  subject,  and  vanish  if  the  body  or  the 
part  of  the  body  that  has  been  moved  resumes  its  former 
position.  I  no  longer  see  the  inkstand  because  I  have 
turned  my  head  or  shut  my  eyes.  Others,  on  the  other 
hand,  are  real ;  they  happen  without  the  subject  moving, 
or  following  a  movement  (associated  almost  always  with 
a  sensation  of  external  resistance),  but  in  such  a  way 
that  they  do  not  vanish  if  the  body  of  the  subject 


Cognition  101 

resumes  its  original  position.  I  perceive  a  bell  ringing. 
I  change  the  position  of  a  book.  Of  real  variations 
some  are  independent  of  the  subject,  others  determined 
by  him. 

While  in  this  manner  the  collective  representation  of 
external  reality  becomes  orderly,  clear,  and  fixed,  the 
same  takes  place  for  internal  reality.  In  the  organism 
of  consciousness  the  sense-percept  represents  in  some 
way  the  solid  bony  framework  round  which  the  other 
elements  are  grouped.  That  the  comparison  must  not 
be  taken  too  strictly  appears  from  what  has  been  said. 
The  recollections  and  the  actions  (exclusively  facts  of 
the  subject  and  therefore  internal)  are  also  orderly,  or  it 
would  be  impossible  for  the  whole  to  reach  any  stable 
organisation.  But  we  understand  without  need  of 
further  explanations  that  there  is  truth  in  the  com- 
parison. Gradually,  as  he  finds  his  position  externally, 
the  subject  does  so  also  internally.  Recollections  and 
images  reproduce  by  preference  the  most  important 
facts — that  is,  those  associated  with  the  most  vivid 
feelings ;  and  the  feelings  (hence  also  desires  and  fears) 
adapt  themselves  to  the  environment,  to  the  reality 
represented.  Activity  develops  in  correlation  with  the 
feelings  and  with  reality.  The  subject  which  has  found 
its  true  position  withdraws  itself  from  difficulties, 
expresses  an  ever  more  orderly  activity. 

Activity  is  practical ;  it  tends  to  procure  the  good 
and  to  remove  the  evil — such  good  and  evil  as  the 
subject  is  capable  of  desiring  or  fearing.  And  in  a 
subject  which  has  no  gifts  superior  to  those  with  which 
we  have  hitherto  supposed  it  provided,  it  is  directed 
towards  the  external  world — for  instance,  towards  the 
obtaining  of  food.  Even  flight  from  an  enemy  can  be 
referred  to  something  external — the  enemy.  But  to 
obtain  a  certain  result  operating  on  or  in  external 


iO2  The  Great  Problems 

reality,  that  representation  of  external  reality  of  which 
the  developed  subject  is  in  possession  is  insufficient.  A 
clear  and  distinct  representation  is  needed  of  particular 
parts  of  reality,  of  this  or  that  determinate  thing.  The 
activity  which  expresses  itself,  not  in  an  immediately 
practical  sense  but  to  obtain  a  clear  and  distinct  repre- 
sentation of  a  part  of  reality — an  end  which  serves  as  a 
means  to  the  practical  end,  but  which  must  be  dis- 
tinguished from  it,  and  which  we  can  therefore  call 

o 

theoretic — is  attention. 

Under  the  pressure  of  practical  needs,  the  animal  is 
not  content  with  seeing  ;  it  looks.  Moving  the  eye  or 
the  head  or  the  body,  it  acts  so  that  the  image  may  be 
formed  on  the  point  of  the  retina  where  vision  is 
clearest.  It  proceeds  analogously  for  the  other  senses. 
It  assumes  on  the  whole  as  a  subject,  an  attitude, 
external  or  internal,  which  makes  the  thing  occupy  the 
field  of  consciousness ;  it  concentrates  its  consciousness 
on  the  thing.  The  attention — even  that  of  the  man 
who  reflects  on  abstractions — is  manifested  externally 
by  the  behaviour,  and  can  make  the  most  intense  sen- 
sations fall  into  subconsciousness. 

A  sensation  or  feeling  can  be  so  strong  that  conscious- 
ness remains  dominated  and  occupied  by  it :  this  is  not 
a  case  of  attention.  True  attention  is  always  an  action, 
the  expression  of  an  activity  which,  although  it  is  not 
an  element  separable  from  the  others,  is  still  always  a 
distinct  element.  A  desire,  a  purpose,  determine  by 
means  of  their  connections  with  the  other  constituents 
of  consciousness  and  unconsciousness  a  change  by  which 
the  consciousness  of  the  thing  becomes  clearer  and  more 
distinct.  Although  the  tilings  to  which  we  do  not 
attend  fall  therefore  into  relative  subconsciousness, 
nevertheless  attention  to  one  thing  does  not  always 
consist  in  driving  the  others  into  subcousciousness,  or, 


Cognition  103 

rather,  perhaps  it  can  never  be  reduced  to  this.  Atten- 
tion, for  instance,  always  calls  up  recollections  which 
have  a  closer  relation  to  the  thing  in  that  particular 
complex  of  circumstances.  Attention  is,  in  short,  an 
action — an  action  which  is  a  useful,  an  almost  indis- 
pensable, antecedent  of  practical  action.  And  not  rarely 
it  is  itself  practical,  and  modifies  the  thing.  If  I  con- 
centrate my  attention  on  a  body,  I  take  it  in  my  hand, 
I  turn  it  about,  I  bring  it  close  to  me,  sometimes  I 
break  it.  Brute  beasts  also  sometimes  do  similar 
things. 

How  far  attention  is  important  in  organising  con- 
sciousness (and  unconsciousness)  there  is  no  need  to 
discuss. 


II 

With   the  development  of  which  we  have  given  a 
brief  summary,   consciousness    remains    a    simple   con- 
sciousness of  facts,  of  concrete  things.     The 
laws  which  regulate  the  facts  are  only   im-  sciousness 

i  •    •  1  1       •       i      i     -i   •       *  i  and  conscious- 

pllCltly  included  m  it.  ness  of  order: 

The  consciousness  of  the  subject  is  orderly, 
The  elements  from  which  it  results  are  not 
only  regulated  by  the  laws  which  connect 


them  with  a  vaster  whole,  but  thanks  to  their  BU9e9*ly*< 

and  objective. 

interference  according  to  those  laws,  and  to 

an  intrinsic  a  principle,  they  constitute  a  whole  which  is 

orderly  in  itself. 

The  subject  has  a  faithful  image  of  surrounding  reality. 
The  approach  and  variation  of  sense-percepts  are  not 
identical  with  the  approach  and  variation  of  the  perceiv- 
ables,  but,  integrated  by  representations  and  recollections, 

1  The  subject,  as  wo  have  noted,  is  not  reducible  to  the  unity  of  ele- 
ments which  are  independent  of  it. 


IO4  The  Great  Problems 

they  suffice  for  the  subject  to  find  his  true  position  in 
the  external  reality  around  him.  Reality  presents  itself 
in  an  order  to  which  there  is  a  corresponding  internal 
order  of  psychical  phenomena  peculiar  to  the  subject. 
The  subject  can  generally  act  so  as  to  preserve  himself 
for  a  time  in  a  tolerable  condition. 

But  the  order  of  consciousness  is  still  not  the  explicit 
consciousness  of  the  order.  A  subject  has  an  expectation 
which  is  realised.  His  consciousness  is  ordered.  It  is 
the  implicit  consciousness  of  an  order,  of  a  law.  But  the 
law  is  only  included  in  consciousness  implicitly.  The 
expectation  is  realised  because  a  law  is  valid.  In  the 
circumstances  one  fact  always  succeeds  another  after  a 
determinate  interval.  But  the  law  is  always  valid  pro- 
vided that  the  first  fact  occurs  in  those  circumstances. 
The  expectation,  however,  refers  to  the  actual  case,  and 
is  itself  only  an  actual  psychical  fact. 

Can  there  be  consciousness  of  a  law  ? — of  a  relation 
qua  relation  ?  Between  two  concrete  things  there  is  a 
relation.  Supposing  the  two  concrete  things  are  both 
included  in  the  consciousness  of  a  subject,  they  will  be 
included  in  it  not  as  detached  from  one  another,  but  as 
connected  with  one  another.  The  relation  will  be  in 
consciousness  in  so  far  as  the  concrete  objects  are  in  con- 
sciousness— as  realised  in  that  case.  But  the  same  rela- 
tion can  exist  between  two  other  concrete  objects.  Its 
character  of  relation,  its  existence  as  relation,  consists  in 
this — that  there  are  two  presupposed  concrete  objects,  any 
two  whatever  among  certain  concrete  objects,  not  just 
precisely  those  two  of  which  we  have  consciousness.  All 
stones  fall  unless  supported.  At  this  moment  I  only  see 
the  one  fall  from  which  the  support  has  been  removed. 

The  consciousness  of  a  law  or  of  a  relation  can  and 
does  exist.  It  constitutes  cognition. 

In   reference   to   this   we   must  distinguish   the  laws 


Cognition  105 

which  are  valid  for  all  that  exists  or  happens,  and  the 
consciousness  that  certain  subjects,  i.e.  men,  have  of  the 
same  laws.  The  laws  are  truth,  objective  and  knowable. 
Certainly  a  law  which  I  know  is  not  something  ex- 
clusively belonging  to  me  who  know  it — the  same  may 
be  included  in  my  consciousness  and  in  that  of  any  other 
man.  In  this  aspect  laws  are  analogous  to  sense- 
perceivables.  But  they  are  not  sense-perceivables  or 
concrete  objects  of  any  sort.  There  are  some  which 
are  valid  for  sense-perceivables  (for  instance,  the  laws 
of  gravity),  there  are  some  which  are  valid  for  facts 
exclusively  individual  (for  recollections,  for  instance), 
and  there  are  some  which  are  valid  for  all  concrete 
objects  without  exception.  They  belong  in  a  certain 
sense  to  the  field  of  reality,  and  yet  they  are  not  con- 
crete elements  of  reality.  Evidently  a  problem  arises 
here — the  problem  of  knowledge  considered  objectively  : 
how  we  should  conceive  reality,  in  order  to  comprehend 
its  being  dominated  by  laws.  A  second  problem  is  the 
following :  in  what  way  the  consciousness  of  a  subject 
can  include  laws.  This  is  the  problem  of  consciousness 
considered  subjectively,  psychologically — the  problem 
specially  of  cognition.  We  will  discuss  this  first ;  for 
the  other  we  must  refer  to  the  chapter  on  Reality  and 
Reason. 

Ill 

It  will  be  said  that  the  second  problem  (which  alone 
we  propose  to  solve  for  the  present)  should  be  excluded 
both  from  the  theory  of  knowledge  and  from 

.,  .       .  .  Discussion  of 

philosophy — that  it   is,  precisely  as  we  have  the  preceding 
said,  a  psychological  problem.     And  it  will  be 
doubted  (some  will  not  content  themselves  with  doubt- 
ing) that,  in  treating  of  this  problem  first,  and  even  more 
in  having  thus  divided  into  two  the  problem  of  know- 


106  The  Great  Problems 

ledge,  we  are  assuming  a  presupposition  implying  a 
preposterous  and  erroneous  solution  of  the  problem  of 
knowledge.  We  must  show  that  there  is  nothing  pre- 
supposed or  prejudged. 

The  truth  which  I  know — say  a  physical  law  or  a 
geometrical  theorem — is  not  a  fact,  and  hence  is  not 
a  fact  exclusively,  or  not  exclusively,  mine.  It  depends 
neither  on  me  nor  on  any  circumstance  of  fact,  and 
psychology  has  therefore  nothing  to  do  with  it.  But 
my  knowing  the  truth  is  a  fact,  of  which  I  could  also 
say  when  and  under  what  circumstances  it  is  realised. 
And  it  is  one  which  can  also  vanish.  I  could  forget  the 
truth  so  as  no  longer  to  be  able  to  say  that  I  know  it. 
The  truth  can  be  known  by  anyone,  but  it  cannot  be  said 
that  it  is  known  by  all  who  can  know  it.  There  was 
a  time  when  Pythagoras  alone  knew  his  celebrated 
theorem  of  which  many  are  still  quite  ignorant.  In  con- 
sequence some  distinction  must  be  made  between  a 
problem  which  concerns  the  truth  and  a  problem  which 
concerns  the  cognition  of  it — the  inclusion  of  the  truth 

O 

in  the  consciousness  of  a  subject. 

But,  they  insist,  truth  does  not  and  cannot  exist 
except  in  so  far  as  known.  A  judgment,  for  instance, 
that  eleven  is  a  prime  number  is  true.  It  is  impossible 
to  conceive  a  truth  that  is  not  the  truth  of  a  judgment. 
And  a  judgment  always  implies  a  subject.  A  true 
judgment  is  true  for  every  subject,  but  from  this  just 
reflection  we  must  deduce  the  consequence  that  follows 
legitimately  from  it.  The  Ego  which  judges  (or  in  so 
far  as  it  judges)  is  not  to  be  confounded  with  the  one 
which  "  eats  and  drinks  and  sleeps  and  wears  his  clothes," 
operations  which  have  nothing  at  all  to  do  with  judg- 
ment, with  truth.  The  TCgo  which  judges  is  one  and  the 
same  in  all  the  individual  subjects  there  are,  distin- 
guished from  one  another  by  peculiarities  which  have  no 


Cognition  107 

value  in  reference  to  the  cognition  of  which  we  are 
speaking.  The  unity  of  this  Ego  is  the  true  solution  of 
the  difficulties  which  you  erroneously  solve  with  the 
hypothetical  and  inconceivable  assumption  of  an  objective 
truth.  It  is  the  problem  of  knowledge,  it  is  not  divisible 
into  the  two  which  you  have  formulated,  nor  does  it 
admit  in  any  way  of  a  psychological  treatment. 

The  objections  which  I  have  mentioned,  whose 
intrinsic  value  I  am  not  for  the  present  discussing,  go 
beyond  the  mark.  On  the  distinction  between  a  problem 
of  truth  and  a  problem  of  cognition,  I  have  made  no 
precise  affirmation  or  assumption.  I  said  "  there  is  some 
distinction,"  and  that  there  is  cannot  possibly  be  denied, 
inasmuch  as  a  judgment  may  be  true  even  if  someone  is 
ignorant  of  it  or  denies  it.  We  are  trying  to  discover 
what  the  true  distinction  is.  There  is  nothing  to  prevent 
the  investigation  resulting  in  the  recognition  that  our 
opponents  are  right.  Let  us  suspend  our  assent  for  the 
present,  because  we  cannot  for  the  present  attribute  a 
precise  meaning  to  their  words. 

Certainly  a  judgment  pronounced  by  me,  not  re- 
ferring to  elements  of  fact  exclusively  mine,  if  it  is 
true,  is  true  independently  of  every  fact  exclusively 
mine :  it  is  true  for  everyone  as  for  me.  This  is  the 
objectivity  of  truth  which  we  must  try  to  interpret. 
But  it  is  not  right  not  to  state  as  a  warning  that 
the  consciousness  of  the  judgment  is  one  with  the  con- 
sciousness of  the  other  facts  peculiar  and  also  not 
peculiar  :  sense-perceivables  perceived.  The  circumstance 
that  these  are  of  no  consequence  with  regard  to  the 
judgment  does  not  cancel  the  fact  that  they  are  in- 
cluded with  it  in  one  and  the  same  consciousness. 
Each  one  of  us  affirming — as  each  does  affirm,  even 
when  prejudiced,  provided  he  be  not  under  the  sway 
of  his  prejudice — that  the  judgment  is  pronounced  by 


io8  The  Great  Problems 

him  signifies  that  the  judgment  is  included  in  that 
same  single  consciousness  in  which  there  are  also  in- 
cluded certain  sense-perceivables  perceived,  and  certain 
recollections,  feelings,  &c.  And  there  is  no  judgment 
that  is  not  pronounced  by  someone,  that  is  not  associ- 
ated with  elements  of  fact.  So  that  though  it  may 
be  true  that  to  consider  a  judgment  under  the  point 
of  view  of  the  truth  we  must  abstract  from  the  elements 
of  fact  which  are  associated  with  it  in  the  unity  of  a 
consciousness — to  call  subject  (in  a  universal  sense)  what 
remains  after  having  so  made  abstraction  is  premature 
so  long  as  we  have  not  discussed  the  nature  of  what 
remains,  or  so  long  as  the  other  investigation  which 
we  propose  to  make  is  not  completed.  The  investi- 
gation may  give  what  results  it  will,  meanwhile  we 
note  that  the  new  meaning  attributed  to  the  term 
subject  differs  from  the  usual  one.  So  much  so  that 
it  may  be  doubted  whether  it  is  not  perhaps  an  abuse 
of  language  to  use  the  word. 

To  sum  up.  That  the  judgment  is  always  associated 
with  concrete  objects  in  the  unity  of  a  consciousness 
is  a  fact,  a  real  fact,  although  the  associated  concrete 
objects,  which  vary  from  man  to  man,  and  in  time 
vary  in  the  same  man,  are  extraneous  to  the  truth  of 
the  judgment.  Let  us  try  to  see  how  this  fact  is  pos- 
sible. In  what  way  can  elements  of  fact  and  elements 
which  are  not  of  fact  be  included  in  the  unity  of  the 
same  consciousness  ?  In  making  ourselves  comprehend 
the  fact  of  cognition,  the  solution  of  this  problem  will 
enable  us  to  understand  better  what  we  have  called 
objective  truth. 


Cognition  109 

IV 

In  order  to  know,  I  must  judge.  I  must  affirm  or 
deny.  Let  us  consider  affirmative  judgment  first.  It 
is  I  who  affirm.  "I  affirm"  means  that  a  judgment  as 
certain  fact  happens  in  that  unity  of  con- 
sciousness  which  is  myself.  It  happens  in 
so  far  as  it  is  accomplished  by  me.  It  is  ^"mYnt  of 
not  something  which  comes  from  outside  to  to«"ubJec*- 
be  included  in  my  consciousness.  Affirmation  is  an 
action,  an  action  sui  generis,  which  does  not  modify 
the  concrete  objects  of  which  I  have  consciousness, 
but  by  means  of  which  I  make  myself  conscious  of  an 
intrinsic  organisation  of  the  concrete  objects.  By  affirm- 
ing, I  render  explicit  to  myself  an  order  which  in 
my  consciousness,  as  a  consciousness  of  concrete  objects, 
is  implicit,  but  implicit  only. 

For  instance,  an  orange  is  presented  to  me.  I  see 
it  clearly.  I  touch  it,  and  perceive  its  fragrance.  I 
could  peel  it,  divide  it  into  sections,  and  eat  it,  so 
procuring  for  myself  certain  other  sensations  associated 
with  the  first.  I  expect  these  other  sensations  which 
I  do  not  actually  experience.  Even  a  brute  beast,  to 
which  oranges  are  no  novelty,  and  which  eats  them 
willingly,  has  a  similar  expectation.  But  I  say,  "  This 
is  an  orange."  No  longer  have  I  only  an  expectation, 
I  have  formulated  a  law.  Certain  sense-perceivables 
actually  perceived,  and  certain  other  sense-perceivables 
actually  not  perceived,  form  a  group,  so  that  if  certain 
conditions  are  realised  (the  peeling  of  the  orange,  &c.) 
the  second  will  succeed  to  the  first.  This  is  the  mean- 
ing of  that  judgment — a  law  which  in  the  expectation 
was  only  implicit,  has  become  explicit.1 

1  That  the  judgment  may  be  untrue,  that  the  body  which  I  believe 
to  be  an   orange  may  only  have  the  external   characteristics   of   one,   is 


no  The  Great  Problems 

I  judge  in  so  far  as  by  means  of  my  activity,  of  the 
activity  which  is  myself,  I  transform  an  expectation 
into  a  law — I  extract  the  law  from  the  expectation 
which  included  it.  The  expectation  which  I  transform 
is  also  mine,  included  with  the  activity  in  the  same 
unity  of  consciousness,  in  that  same  unity  of  consciousness 
in  which  there  will  be  included  also  the  result  of  my 
action, — the  judgment,  the  law,  the  cognition.  Hence 
the  consciousness  of  concrete  objects,  although  it  is 
not  cognition,  is  not,  however,  different  in  kind  from 
cognition,  as,  for  instance,  matter  would  be  if  matter 
were  something  extraneous  to  consciousness.  The  con- 
sciousness of  concrete  objects  is  implicit  cognition  which 
to  become  explicit  requires  only  an  external  expression 
of  the  subject's  energy.  Evidently,  as  we  have  already 
said,  the  consciousness  of  concrete  objects  is  implicit 
cognition  because  it  cannot  be  reduced  to  the  concrete 
objects  of  which  it  is  the  consciousness,  but  possesses  an 
intrinsic  organisation  of  its  own  without  which,  besides, 
it  could  not  even  be  the  one  consciousness  of  the 
concrete  objects. 

Concrete  objects  are  usually  considered  as  the  given 
data  with  which  we  construct  cognition.  Certainly 
without  concrete  objects  there  is  no  cognition.  This, 
in  fact,  even  in  its  most  abstract  forms,  refers  always  to 
reality,  is  cognition  of  reality.  In  reference  to  the 
cognitive  process  the  concrete  individual  objects,  which 
are  in  particular  the  object  of  study,  can  be  considered 
as  given  (in  the  way,  to  use  a  rough  comparison,  in 
which  stones  are  given  to  the  bricklayer),  or  as  elements 
per  se  extraneous  to  the  process,  but  invested  by  the 
process  as  it  were  with  something  from  outside,  so  that 
they  become  arranged  and  assimilated.  But  this  relation 

irrelevant.     Not  every  huv  which  is  formulated  is  true,  but   a  judgment 
is  always  the  formulation  of  a  law. 


Cognition  1 1 1 

between  cognitive  process  and  concrete  objects  is  possible 
only  because  the  concrete  objects  form  a  part  of  that 
intrinsically  organised  whole  which  is  the  real  conscious- 
ness of  concrete  objects,  in  which  are  included  also  the 
acts  from  which  the  process  results.  Concrete  objects 
which  were  in  truth  simply  given,  one  by  one  separately 
and  without  any  essential  relation  to  the  process,  could 
never  be  utilised  by  the  process.  The  consciousness  of 
the  concrete  objects  plus  its  own  organisation,  intrinsic 
though  only  implicit,  is  fundamental  to  the  process  and 
its  condition  sine  qua  non.  And  the  consciousness  with 
its  ordered  complexity  is  not  a  thing  given  for  the 
cognitive  process :  the  cognitive  process  is  the  develop- 
ment of  the  consciousness,  and  the  cognition  is  the  result 
of  its  development.  It  is  the  transformation  of  the 
consciousness  of  concrete  objects  into  consciousness  of 
itself. 

One  other  observation,  also  quite  evident.  The  subject 
never  knows  anything  other  than  itself.  This  does  not 
mean  that  its  cognition  is  enclosed  in  the  limits  of  what 
is  exclusively  peculiar  to  the  subject.  The  subject 
knows  the  universe,  but  only  in  so  far  as  the  universe 
is  enclosed  in  the  subject.  I  see  bodies — I  touch  them, 
&c.  That  is  to  say,  sense-perceivables  which  are  not 
exclusively  mine  are  included  in  my  consciousness,  or 
become  elements  of  me.  I  know  that  bodies  and  other 
subjects  exist,  with  certain  properties,  independently  of 
me — that  such  and  such  facts  happen  according  to 
certain  laws.  That  is  to  say,  I  render  myself  explicitly 
aware  of  an  organisation  which  is  implicit  in  my  con- 
sciousness. I  know  the  universe  in  so  far  as  I  render 
myself  fully  conscious  of  myself.  For  the  universe  is 
no  less  a  part  of  me,  than  I  of  the  universe. 


1 1 2  The  Great  Problems 


I  see  a  body — for  instance,  this  sheet  of  paper.  I  see 
it  along  with  other  bodies,  among  which  it  occupies  a 
•rued!*  determinate  situation.  Also  if,  instead  of 
^concrete  seeing  it,  I  represent  it  to  myself,  I  always 
represent  it  to  myself  in  a  determinate  posi- 
tion among  other  bodies.  I  also  consider  it  as  some- 
thing with  a  separate  existence  which  can  assume  very 
different  positions  among  any  bodies  whatever.  I 
consider  it  so  because  my  consciousness  does  not  remain 
always  in  the  state  in  which  it  is  when,  at  a  given 
instant,  I  see  (or  represent  to  myself)  the  sheet  of 
paper. 

I  see  that  sheet  of  paper  now  here,  now  there, 
among  certain  bodies  or  among  certain  others.  Always 
in  an  environment,  but  in  an  environment  which  is  never 
the  same.  And  this  variety  of  seeings  has  had  as  its 
consequence  the  imprinting  on  representations  of  a 
movement  which  persists.  The  representation  of  the 
sheet  of  paper  is  always  associated  with  a  representation 
of  environment,  but  the  representation  of  environment 
with  which  it  is  associated  is  not  fixed  (it  may  be  so 
in  certain  cases  which  do  not  concern  us  now).  In 
the  series  of  representations  which  succeed  each  other, 
each  of  which  contains  the  sheet  in  a  determinate  en- 
vironment, something  fixed  (or  relatively  more  fixed) 
succeeds,  as  such,  not  in  separating  itself,  but  at  least  in 
distinguishing  itself  from  the  variable  remainder  (re- 
latively more  variable). 

The  existence  of  the  representation  of  the  sheet  of 
paper,  the  meaning  of  the  phrase  "  this  sheet,"  consists 
in  the  distinction  that  we  have  mentioned. 

Everybody  that  I  see  (or  touch,  &c.),  I  consider  at 


Cognition  113 

once  and  without  hesitation  as  a  body.  But  because  the 
process  by  which  my  consciousness  is  organised  is  no  longer 
in  its  first  phases,!  assimilate  the  new  experience  promptly 
like  food,  because  it,  like  the  food,  finds  an  organism  ready 
for  the  assimilation.  Let  us  not  delay  on  this  point. 

One  thing  must  not  be  neglected,  because  if  we 
neglect  it  we  cannot  understand  anything  further.  The 
organisation  of  consciousness  consists,  not  in  assuming 
consciousness  to  be  a  fixed  structure,  like  the  structure  of 
a  crystal,  but  in  a  movement  which  has  commenced,  a 
process  which  continues  to  develop  itself  incessantly  in 
accordance  with  certain  laws.  So  for  an  illustration, 
which  is  not  only  an  illustration,  the  life  of  an  organism 
does  not  consist  in  its  structure  in  so  far  as  it  is  fixed, 
but  in  its  functions,  which  resolve  themselves  into  an 
incessant  variation  in  accordance  with  laws.  If  we 
neglect  the  ordered  succession  and  connection  of  repre- 
sentations or  an  uninterrupted  developing  process  in 
which  and  by  means  of  which  certain  elements  re- 
latively more  fixed  become  distinguished  as  such  from 
certain  others  more  variable  and  more  irregularly 
variable — even  the  commonest  and  easiest  distinctions, 
between  the  book  and  the  bookcase,  between  the  man 
and  his  clothes,  become  guess-work. 

In  the  process  an  important  function  belongs  without 
doubt  to  the  attention.  The  things  to  which  we  attend 
are  perceived  with  greater  clearness.  The  repre- 
sentations which  are  there  are  stronger,  and  become 
stronger  still  if  we  attend  to  them  when  they  are 
represented.  Suitably  directed  attention  can  also  deter- 
mine their  representation.  Consciousness  would  not 
organise  itself  unless  it  was  active,  and  the  manner  in 
which  it  organises  itself  depends,  on  the  one  hand,  on  the 
manner  in  which  it  develops  and  gives  expression  to  its 
own  peculiar  activity. 

H 


H4  The  Great  Problems 

On  the  other  hand,  it  depends  on  things.  My  ink- 
stand is  a  distinct  fact  in  my  consciousness,  but  not  in 
mine  only.  I  distinguish  it  because  I  act,  but  my  acting 
would  not  distinguish  it  if  the  inkstand  were  not 
distinguishable — if  there  were  not  outside  my  con- 
sciousness a  formation,  certainly  not  separate,  but  real. 
With  the  objective  conditions  required  in  order  that  my 
personal  consciousness  may  arrange  or  constitute  itself, 
this  is  not  the  place  to  deal.  Evidently,  however,  the 
objective  conditions  alone  are  insufficient.  A  reality 
exists.  Also  a  subject  knows  something  of  it.  In  what 
we  have  said  we  sum  up  what  is  essential  among  the 
conditions  which  a  subject  must  satisfy  to  know  anything 
of  it. 


VI 

I  can  distinguish  a  body  from  its  environment, 
though  I  cannot  see  it  or  represent  it  to  myself  without 
The  abstract :  an  environment.  In  the  same  way  I  can  dis- 
tne  concept.  tinguish  in  a  body  its  colour,  or  other  deter- 
minate characteristic,  although  the  colour  is  not  visible  or 
representable  alone.  In  particular  I  fix  my  attention 
more  intensely  on  the  colour  alone.  It  will  happen  that 
the  colour  is  remembered  more  firmly  than  the  other 
characteristics  to  which  I  have  given  less  attention— 
than  the  shape.  In  the  recollection  the  colour  is  repre- 
sented the  same  (let  us  suppose  this — the  supposition  is 
realisable  when  we  are  dealing  with  other  than  old 
recollections),  but  not  the  shape.  The  colour  is  always 
represented  as  associated  with  a  determinate  shape,  but 
the  shape,  not  having  been  fixed  by  attention,  varies 
more  or  less  from  one  moment  to  another.  I  recollect 
the  colour,  but  not  exactly  the  shape.  This  persistence 
of  the  colour  while  the  shape  with  which  it  is  associated 


Cognition  1 1 5 

varies,  distinguishes  the  colour  from  the  shape,  and 
gives  it  a  relative  independence. 

I  distinguish  the  colour  of  one  body,  that  of  a 
second,  that  of  a  third,  &c.  And  now  that  I  have  in 
my  consciousness  a  series  of  colours — each  of  which  is 
associated  with  other  elements,  but  distinct,  fixed  by 
attention — I  can  institute  a  comparison  between  the 
colours  of  the  series.  To  distinguish  firmly  the  colour 
A  from  the  colour  B,  it  is  or  is  not  needful  to  fix 
my  attention  also  on  the  other  elements  with  which 
each  is  associated.  In  the  first  case  the  colours  are 
the  same,  in  the  second  they  are  different. 

First  let  the  colours  be  the  same.  The  expectation 
arises  that  some  other  body,  of  a  colour  the  same  as 
those  observed,  may  present  itself.  The  expectation 
may  arise  even  after  we  have  seen  a  single  body,  and 
distinguished  its  colour.  Because  the  result  of  dis- 
tinguishing the  colour,  of  fixing  it  by  attending  to  it, 
is  to  associate  it  with  a  multiplicity  of  other  variable 
elements  (other  shapes),  and  so  to  dissociate  it  from 
those  with  which  it  was  associated  in  the  perception. 
This  fact  of  its  no  longer  being  associated  with  a 
determinate  shape,  &c.,  while  it  must  be  associated 
with  some  shape,  constitutes  the  expectation  under 
discussion  which  will  besides,  with  the  observation  of 
more  and  more  bodies  which  have  the  same  colours, 
be  greatly  encouraged  and  converted  into  a  lasting 
formation.  On  the  other  hand,  the  same  observation 
facilitates  the  work  of  the  attention  without  rendering1 

CT 

it  superfluous — to  detach  with  the  help  of  recollection 
one  characteristic  (the  colour,  for  instance)  from  that 
indivisible  bundle  of  characteristics  which  is  the  con- 
crete object. 

Let  the  colours  be  different.  We  can  content  our- 
selves with  noticing  the  difference,  but  we  can  also,  follow- 


ii6  The  Great  Problems 

ing  in  substance  the  same  process,  recognise  an  identity 
and  a  diversity  of  characteristics  between  the  colours. 

A  red  that  I  see,  or  of  which  I  have  the  repre- 
sentation at  a  given  moment,  is  always  a  determinate 
red.  But  the  recollection  of  it  is  always  more  or 
less  variable.  To  a  seen  red  there  corresponds  not 
one  single  representation,  but  a  group  of  many  different 
associated  representations  which  succeed  each  other  and 
present  themselves  one  after  the  other  without  my 
being  able  to  say  which  constitutes  the  precise  recol- 
lection. The  same  group  of  representations  corresponds 
to  a  second  red  which  I  have  seen.  Are  the  two  reds 
the  same  ?  They  both  correspond  to  that  group  of 
representations.  That  is  all  I  can  say,  depending  on 
what  I  recollect.  And  in  this  consists  my  recollection 
that  the  two  colours  are  similar,  that  they  are  two  reds. 

What  has  been  said  of  red,  can  be  said  also  of  circular, 
orange,  suffering,  &c., — concepts  that  are  certainly  not 
things,  but  characteristics  of  things,  characteristics  that 
may  be  common  to  as  many  things  as  you  will. 


VII 

I  can  never  separate  one  thing  from  every  other. 
But  I  can  often  separate  it  from  one  other,  or  from  a 
group  of  others — separate  it  practically,  so 
processes  that  in  sensitive  consciousness,  mine  or 
ab8?r£°ti£g  another's,  the  thing  no  longer  forms  part 
of  the  group.  A  piece  of  furniture  may  be 
carried  from  one  room  to  another ;  a  sheet  of  glass 
may  be  broken,  and  the  pieces  scattered.  We  cannot 
move  Sirius  from  his  place  and  put  him  in  Ursa  Major, 
because  we  are  not  strong  enough  ;  the  moving  of  Sirius 
is  represen table  and  no  doubt  intrinsically  possible. 

One  characteristic  cannot  be  separated  from  certain 


Cognition  117 

others  either  practically  or  even  in  representation.  A 
colour  whether  seen  or  represented  must  have  a  shape. 

A  characteristic  is  included  in  the  sensitive  con- 
sciousness or  in  the  actual  representation.  If  I  had  no 
consciousness  of  any  characteristic  of  a  thing,  I  should 
have  no  consciousness  of  the  thing.  But  it  is  not 
distinct.  It  forms  a  group  with  others,  because  in 
itself,  as  that  determinate  element  of  fact,  it  is  in- 
divisible. 

However,  consciousness  is  not  only  the  receptacle 
of  certain  things  and  certain  representations.  It  is 
variable  and  active.  It  gives  rise  to  a  process  by  which 
one  characteristic  is  associated  successively  with  a  variety 
of  others — a  colour  with  a  variety  of  shapes.  By  this 
process  it  is  made  possible  for  the  activity  to  attend  to 
the  characteristic  which  remains  fixed,  to  distinguish  it 
among  the  associated  variables. 

In  expressing  itself  as  attention  which  distinguishes 
— which  makes  use  of  a  process,  or,  rather,  which  assists 
in  producing  it  and  rendering  it  an  efficacious  instrument 
of  distinction — the  activity  is  guided  by  a  practical 
intent.  A  sheep  distinguishes  green  (that  of  the 
meadows  and  fields) ;  it  has  formed  for  itself,  in  its 
consciousness,  a  group  of  similar  representations,  a  group 
which  is  not  an  inert  aggregate  of  invariable  things, 
but  a  living  organism  whose  existence  consists  in  the 
incessant  development  of  a  process.  The  group  has 
constituted  itself  in  preference  to  many  others,  and  has 
established  itself  in  consciousness  on  account  of  its  practi- 
cal value  because  associated  with  the  requirement  of  food. 

The  group  being  constituted,  let  the  sheep  perceive 
something — a  bundle  of  grass.  The  thing  by  its  char- 
acteristic of  being  green  is  assimilated  by  the  group, 
which  is  not  a  dead  content  but  an  organism.  The 
assimilation  is  not  to  be  compared  with  the  casual 


n8  The  Great  Problems 

addition  of  a  pebble  to  a  heap  of  pebbles ;  it  is  due  both 
to  the  affinity  between  a  characteristic  of  the  thing  and 
the  group  of  characteristics,  and  to  the  attention  of  the 
sheep.  The  assimilation  consists  in  the  distinction  of 
the  characteristic  of  green.  The  sheep  sees  also  the 
shape  of  the  bundle,  but  does  not  distinguish  it  because 
it  is  of  no  importance  to  her.  The  sheep  does  not  say, 
"  This  (the  bundle  of  grass)  is  assimilated  by  that  (the 
group) ;  this  is  green."  To  say  this,  it  is  not  enough 
to  distinguish  ;  we  must  render  an  account  to  our- 
selves, acquire  reflective  consciousness,  of  the  distinction 
observed. 

In  man  the  distinctive  processes  receive  a  greater 
stability — the  stability  of  an  organism,  not  of  a  stone — 
from  their  association  with  speech.  If  not  associated 
with  the  process,  speech  would  have  no  meaning  at  all. 
But  the  processes  tend  to  intertwine  with  one  another, 
in  virtue  of  those  same  relations  that,  if  each  pre- 
serves a  relative  independence,  make  them  elements  of  a 
bundle,  of  a  well-arranged  consciousness.  The  greens 
resemble  each  other  as  greens,  but  the  colours  resemble 
each  other  as  colours,  and  colours,  sounds,  &c.,  resemble 
each  other  as  sense-percepts.  Something  is  needed  to 
keep  one  process  distinct  from  another,  and  to  imprint  on 
each  a  characteristic  of  determinate  unity.  Language 
by  associating  a  determinate  word,  always  the  same,  with 
a  determinate  process,  and  different  words  with  different 
processes,  performs  this  function — a  function  indispens- 
able in  all  those  cases,  arid  they  are  far  the  most 
numerous,  in  which  the  precise  and  imperious  pressure 
of  an  immediately  practical  requirement  is  absent. 

The  subject  is  enabled  to  distinguish  in  tilings  the 
characteristics  that  cannot  be  separated  from  them  by 
means  of  processes,  but  only  because  things  do  not  exist 
at  all  apart  from  each  other  in  absolute  separation. 


Cognition  1 19 

This  book  is  not  that  book,  but  they  are  both  books. 
In  concrete  objects  there  is  always  something  in  common. 
That  cognition  has  objective  conditions,  without  which 
the  subjective  would  be  inefficacious,  or  rather  would 
not  exist,  cannot  be  denied.  But  we  cannot  deny 
either  that  it  has  subjective  conditions.  The  cognitive 
processes  are  peculiar  to  the  individual  subjects,  although 
the  results  are  not  peculiar.  To  study  cognition,  with- 
out troubling  about  how  the  determinate  subject 
succeeds  in  obtaining  it,  is  not  to  make  a  complete 
study  of  it.  The  consciousness  of  the  determinate 
subject  is  concrete  and  of  concrete  objects.  It  would 
seem  that  non-concrete  objects  could  not  be  included 
in  it.  Here  is  a  problem  needing  solution.  For  those 
non-concrete  elements  which  are  the  characteristics  of 
things,  we  have  solved  it. 

VIII 

To  reconstruct  deliberately  a  system  of  elements, 
that  is  the  way  in  which  we  can  make  ourselves  aware 
of  the  intrinsic  arrangement  of  the  system,  of  cognition  an 
the  relations  and  laws  which  connect  its  tfolafreeon- 
elements.  The  exact  reconstruction  of  a  SjJJJJ^ of  a 
limited  system  is  not  possible,  strictly  speak-  elements- 
ing.  Every  system  is  connected  with  others.  Between 
the  relations  which  are  intrinsic  and  those  which  are 
external  to  it,  there  is  no  clear-cut  distinction — the  one 
set  run  into  the  other.  Every  limited  system  is  part  of 
a  more  extended  and  more  complex  system,  and  this  of 
another,  and  so  forth.  In  the  end,  a  limited  system  is 
part  of  the  universe,  and  we  cannot  make  ourselves 
thoroughly  conscious  of  its  intrinsic  arrangement  unless 
we  make  ourselves  conscious  of  the  universal  arrange- 
ment. The  cognitions  presuppose  each  other  to  some 
extent.  No  one  is  complete  and  absolute  cognition 


I2O  The  Great  Problems 

apart  from  others.  To  possess  one  of  them  fully  we 
must  possess  them  all.  The  reconstruction  therefore  is 
never  finished,  but  this  does  not  mean  that  it  is  useless 
to  attempt  it.  Doubtless  the  universe  is  one,  but  not 
to  such  a  degree  that  none  of  its  parts  are  rela- 
tively independent,  knowable  independently  to  a  certain 
extent.  From  an  approximate  cognition  of  the  parts 
one  attains  to  an  approximate  cognition  of  the  whole. 
This  renders  possible  a  more  approximate  cognition  of 
the  parts,  whence  we  obtain  a  more  approximate 
cognition  of  the  whole,  and  so  on. 

The  reconstruction  of  which  we  are  speaking  differs 
from  a  real  construction.  In  order  to  know,  operations 
must  be  completed  which  in  their  characteristics  do  not 
differ  from  practical  operations,  a  physical  experiment,  a 
chemical  analysis  or  synthesis,  &c.  But  essentially  our 
action  which  gives  us  cognition,  or  which  constitutes  it, 
had  representations  for  its  material.  It  is  true  science 
is  only  occupied  with  universals  or  with  concepts,  but 
its  scope  is  to  know  reality.  The  concepts  are  character- 
istics of  concrete  objects,  and  are  considered  as  such. 
They  are  characteristics  each  of  which  can  be  common 
to  an  indefinite  number  of  concrete  objects,  but  always 
characteristics  of  concrete  objects.  And  the  subject  has 
no  consciousness  of  them  except  in  so  far  as  it  has 
consciousness  of  the  concrete  objects — a  consciousness 
itself  concrete.  The  cognitive  reconstruction  is  always 
exercised  therefore  on  concrete  objects,  on  sense-perceiv- 
ables  perceived  or  represented.  But  the  sensitive  and 
representative  consciousness  is  simply  arranged ;  we 
reconstruct  it  in  order  to  arrive  at  an  explicit  con- 
sciousness of  the  arrangement.  The  existence  of  an 
arrangement,  of  relations,  of  laws,  is  referable  to  the 
characteristics  of  the  concrete  objects.  Therefore  we 
are  working  on  concrete  objects  with  regard  to  their 


Cognition  1 2 1 

characteristics  to  make  evident  something  which  is  not 
concrete  and  yet  is  in  the  concrete  objects. 

We  have  seen  how  consciousness  of  the  character- 
istics is  acquired.  And  it  is  easy  to  recognise  that  such 
consciousness  is  consciousness  of  relations,  of  laws.  To 
distinguish  a  characteristic  is  to  pass  beyond  the  self- 
contained  concrete  object,  to  arrive  at  something  through 
which  the  one  concrete  object  passes  into  another  and 
connects  or  identifies  itself  with  it.  The  place  which  is 
now  occupied  by  one  body  can  be  occupied  by  another, 
in  the  interval  in  which  one  fact  happens  others  happen, 
and  so  on.  The  distinction  of  concrete  objects  enters 
therefore  again  into  the  reconstruction  of  which  we  are 
speaking.  It  is  always  in  substance  one  and  the  same 
process.  The  two  phases  which  we  distinguish  in  it 
can  be  so  distinguished,  but  they  are  not  irreducible,  and 
they  mutually  presuppose  each  other. 

IX 

The  consciousness  of  a  characteristic,  we  noted,  is 
always  the  consciousness  of  a  process.  A  characteristic 
is  not  a  thing  which  can  be  considered  as  the 

1  .  Elucidation 

immovable  content  01  an  immovable  conscious-  of  the  same 
ness,  as  is,  for  instance,  a  content  of  sensation 
or  representation.     The  existence  (in  my  consciousness) 
of  a  characteristic   is  not  comparable  to  the  existence 
(in  my  body)  of  a  bone — for  instance,  of  a  shin-bone ; 
but    rather    to    the    circulation    of   the    blood,    or    to 
breathing.     The  distinct  characteristic  exists  in  so  far 
as  it  is  distinguishable — a  vital  function  in  action,  not 
a  thing  which  serves  life  without  being  life. 

We  must  not  allow  ourselves  to  be  led  into  error 
by  the  manner  in  which  we  ordinarily  speak  or  think. 
The  use  which  we  generally  make  of  words  (even  in 


122  The  Great  Problems 

speaking  within  ourselves,  i.e.  in  thinking)  is  sym- 
bolical. We  make  use  of  words,  as  in  Algebra  we 
do  of  other  symbols,  without  rendering  their  meaning 
explicit.  Some  representations  associated  with  them 
help  us,  it  is  true,  to  use  them  correctly,  but  these 
have  only  a  symbolic  value  themselves.  Therefore  it 
is  easy  to  delude  ourselves,  and  to  confuse  the  con- 
sciousness of  the  symbol  with  that  of  its  meaning, 
to  take  the  word  "red"  or  the  determinate  representa- 
tion accidentally  associated  with  it  for  the  concept  (for 
the  consciousness  of  the  characteristic).  The  fact  is 
that  the  symbols  would  serve  no  purpose  and  would 
not  exist  if  there  were  not  the  possibility  of  ren- 
dering their  meaning  explicit.  And  when  we  wish 
to  render  their  meanings  explicit  to  ourselves,  we 
only  reproduce  the  processes  of  which  we  have  spoken 
before. 

The  same  may  be  said  of  the  consciousness  of  a 
relation,  of  a  law,  as  of  the  consciousness  of  a  character- 
istic. I  cannot  see  or  touch  a  relation,  nor  represent 
it  to  myself  as  I  could  a  thing  seen  or  touched.  I 
become  conscious  of  it  in  so  far  as  I  rearrange,  with 
a  conscious  action  on  my  part,  certain  elements  which 
are  arranged  in  my  consciousness,  which  constitute  a 
system — elements  which  I  take  one  by  one,  recomposing 
intentionally  the  same  system.  To  complete  this  work 
of  reconstruction,  I  must  bend  my  activity  to  the  law 
of  the  system  or  of  the  bundle  (of  the  thing  or  of  the 
group  of  things)  which  I  am  reconstructing.  I  must 
remake  on  my  own  account  in  the  field  of  my  repre- 
sentations what  is  already  made  in  the  field  of  reality— 
of  a  reality  included  in  my  consciousness. 

In  this  bending,  this  adapting  to  an  arrangement, 
the  activity  of  which  I  am  conscious,  consists  my  being 
conscious  of  the  arrangement.  The  intrinsic  arrange- 


Cognition  1 23 

ment  is  a  concrete  object ;  the  arrangement  of  several 
concrete  objects  constituting  a  system  or  group  of 
any  kind  is  implicitly  in  my  consciousness  since  that 
concrete  object  or  group  of  concrete  objects  is  in  my  con- 
sciousness. The  implicit  consciousness  which  I  have  of 
them  becomes  explicit  through  this,  that  the  arrange- 
ment comes  to  be  established  by  me  in  consequence  of 
my  action.  It  is  the  arrangement  by  which  certain 
actions  of  mine  develop,  succeed  each  other,  and  are 
connected  together,  and  I  know  that  they  develop, 
succeed  each  other,  and  are  connected  together  because 
I  deliberately  make  them  do  so  in  that  way. 

There  was  here  a  red  cardboard  disc  which  is  here 
no  longer.  It  has  been  taken  away  or  destroyed.  I 
wish  to  replace  it.  It  was  made  of  cardboard.  I  take 
a  piece  of  cardboard.  It  was  a  disc.  I  give  the  card- 
board the  shape  of  a  disc.  It  was  red.  I  dye  my  disc 
red.  I  have  consciousness  of  what  I  am  doing,  have  I 
not  ?  Well,  if,  having  or  not  having  the  thing  under 
my  eyes,  I  say,  "  This  is  (or  was)  a  red  cardboard  disc," 
I  rearrange  my  representative  consciousness  exactly 
in  the  same  way  in  which,  in  the  case  of  making  it,  I 
have  rearranged  my  sensitive  consciousness.  I  also 
perform  the  same  acts,  with  this  difference,  that,  in 
making  it,  others  must  be  associated  with  them,  and 
these  produce  certain  results  externally. 


X 

I  say  "  This  is  red."     Naturally  I  know  already  what 
"red"  means.     But  it  is  also  true  that  I  have  learned 
the  meanings  of  the  words  by  speaking,  i.e.    Relations 
by  judging.     There  is  no  need  to  confuse  the    judgments: 
first  learning  of  a  language  with  later  learn-    error' 
ings.     One  who  already  knows  hou   to  speak  learns  a 


124  The  Great  Problems 

new  language  by  means  of  the  cognitions  which  he 
possesses  and  knows  how  to  express ;  he  learns  a  new 
method  of  expressing  his  cognitions — even  learns  new 
cognitions.  But  the  first  acquisition  of  the  cognitions 
coincides  with  the  first  learning  of  the  expressions. 

The  child  is  taught  by  speaking  to  it  and  accustom- 
ing it  to  speak.  I  make  use  of  the  concept  of  "  red," 
since  I  possess  it,  in  a  judgment  which  presupposes  it, 
but  the  first  acquisition  of  the  concept  of  "  red  "  takes 
place  with  the  first  judgment  "  this  is  red."  The 
characteristics  of  concrete  objects  are  only  distinct  in 
concrete  objects,  and  the  process  which  makes  us  distin- 
guish them  then  would  not  do  so  unless  at  the  same 
time  it  referred  them  to  those  objects,  and  this  must  be 
noted  to  put  in  evidence  against  the  fundamental  unity 
of  the  cognitive  process. 

In  saying  "this  is  red"  I  have  not  yet  made  myself 
fully  conscious  of  the  intrinsic  arrangement  of  "  this" 
but  I  have  begun  to  make  myself  conscious  of  it ;  I  have 
distinguished  in  the  concrete  object  a  characteristic  which 
I  have  referred  to  that  object.  I  can  go  on  and  say 
"  this  (always  the  same  concrete  object)  is  a  disc,  is  made 
of  cardboard,  &c."  I  join  the  judgment,  and  I  say  "this 
is  a  red  cardboard  disc  "  :  the  intrinsic  arrangement  of  the 
concrete  object  is  now  in  my  consciousness  with  greater 
fullness.  I  say  further,  "  this  red  cardboard  disc  is  here." 
The  arrangement  of  which  I  am  conscious  is  no  longer 
only  intrinsic — it  includes  at  the  same  time  "  this  "  and 
something  else;  a  (space)  relation  of  "this"  with  some- 
thing else.  Suddenly  the  disc  goes — the  wind  has  blown 
it  away.  New  judgments  expressing  new  relations  of 
"  this  "  with  other  things,  a  varying  in  space  relation,  a 
causal  relation. 

Once  more — I  say  "a  disc,  every  disc,  can  roll;  the 
wind  easily  blows  pieces  of  cardboard  away."  Where 


Cognition  125 

are  the  concrete  objects  of  whose  internal  arrangement 
I  have  rendered  myself  conscious  ?  I  am  not  speaking 
of  any  concrete  object  in  particular,  but  what  I  say  is 
true  in  general  for  all  those  concrete  objects  which  have 
certain  characteristics.  What  I  say  refers  always  to 
concrete  objects,  but  not  to  a  concrete  object.  It  has  a 
meaning  and  a  value,  because  it  has  a  meaning  and  a 
value  for  the  whole  of  certain  concrete  objects — for  the 
concrete  objects  of  certain  classes. 

Judgments  have  certain  relations  between  them 
which  can  be  known,  that  is,  which  can  be  reconstructed, 
in  the  same  way  as  the  relations  between  concepts  or 
concrete  objects.  And  a  collection  of  judgments  bound 
together  by  known  relations  so  as  to  form  a  system  is 
science. 

There  are  no  necessary  errors.  To  acquire  explicit 
consciousness  of  the  relations  between  the  elements  of  a 
whole,  I  have  only  to  reconstruct  the  whole.  I  commit 
an  error  if,  instead  of  reconstructing  the  whole,  I  per- 
form a  different  operation.  Now  since  the  whole  is  in 
my  consciousness,  the  possibility  of  comparing  it  with 
what  ought  to  be  its  reconstruction  always  exists.  Sup- 
posing the  whole  to  be  very  complicated,  the  comparison 
will  require  time  and  labour.  But  whether  I  expend 
the  necessary  time  and  labour,  or  refrain  from  judging 
if  I  cannot  so  expend  them,  depends  on  me  alone.  I 
mean  in  the  field  of  science,  where  no  one  is  compelled 
to  labour.  In  the  field  of  practice  it  is  another  thing. 
I  cannot  have  every  glass  of  water  which  I  drink  chemi- 
cally analysed.  If  I  want  to  do  something — and  there 
are  many  things  I  must  do — I  must  content  myself  with 
appearances  which  will  perhaps  be  deceptive,  and  then  I 
err  without  fault  of  mine. 

A  negative  judgment  serves  to  eliminate  one  recog- 
nised as  erroneous,  and  also  to  exclude  a  judgment  from 


126  The  Great  Problems 

a  field  in  which  it  is  not  valid  (that  is,  in  which  it  would 
be  erroneous).  Between  the  two  functions  there  is  no 
substantial  difference.  For  instance,  a  point  which 
moves  in  a  straight  line  must  in  passing  from  one  point 
to  another  pass  successively  through  a  determinate  series 
of  intermediate  points.  This  is  not  true  of  a  point 
which  moves  over  a  plane. 

Among  judgments,  some  are  necessarily  true  and 
others  not  necessarily  so.  The  same  may  be  said  of 
the  relations  between  judgments.  But  the  distinction 
between  the  two  classes  of  judgments  is  out  of  place 
here. 


XI 

What  has  been  said  about  the  manner  in  which 
cognition  becomes  actual  is  as  valid  for  external  reality, 
cognition  of  the  elements  of  which  (the  sense-perceivables) 
C{in  be  or  are  common  to  many  •  subjects,  as 
for  interna]  reality,  the  elements  of  which 
are  facts  exclusively  peculiar  to  the  consciousness  of 
the  determinate  subject.  There  is  no  essential  difference 
between  the  two  sorts  of  cognitions — no  difference  which 
should  be  noted  in  a  study  only  designed  to  discover 
the  conditions  of  their  possibility. 

But  knowing  his  own  facts  of  consciousness,  knowing 
by  means  of  certain  processes  of  which  he  has  conscious- 
ness, the  subject  comes  to  know  himself.  Every  subject 
is  unity  of  consciousness,  the  man  besides  knows  that 
he  is  unity  of  consciousness.  He  contrasts  clearly  and 
vigorously  himself  with  things,  with  his  own  modes 
of  existence.  Not  only  is  he  unity  of  consciousness, 
he  is  self-consciousness.  He  is  not  only  a  subject,  but 
an  ''/."  The  consciousness  of  the  unity,  which  is  super- 
imposed on  the  unity,  is  not  a  single  new  element  like 


Cognition  \  27 

a  new  content,  a  new  feeling,  or  a  new  act.  It  is  a 
profound  transformation  of  the  unity  qua  unity.  One 
might  almost  say  that  the  simple  subject  was,  so  to 
speak,  a  mean  proportional  between  the  "  /"  and  the 
inanimate  body  (a  group  of  sense-perceivables  without 
unity  of  consciousness),  but  the  formula  does  not  put 
the  superiority  of  the  "  /"  sufficiently  in  evidence. 

The  subject  is  transformed  into  an  "/"  by  cognition, 
or  by  there  arising  an  explicit  consciousness  of  the  laws 
which  are  implicit  in  consciousness,  the  first  among 
which,  and  a  condition  of  every  other,  is  the  unity  of 
consciousness.  Facts  happen  and  are  connected  with 
one  another  according  to  certain  laws ;  things  have 
characteristics.  Laws  and  characteristics  are  knowables, 
rational  elements,  certainly  not  extraneous  to  the 
consciousness  even  of  the  simple  subject ;  because  in 
the  consciousness  even  of  the  simple  subject  there  are 
contents,  feelings,  and  acts  which  have  characteristics, 
and  which  vary  according  to  certain  laws.  But  in 
the  consciousness  of  the  simple  subject  characteristics 
and  laws  are  implicit  and  cannot  be  distinguished  from 
that  of  which  they  are  characteristics  and  laws. 

A  brute  sees  a  fruit ;  he  wants  it,  and  procures  it 
with  actions  which  are  well  directed  to  the  purpose. 
The  man  says  "  This  is  a  fruit — such  or  such  a  fruit.  It 
is  good  to  eat.  I  want  it  because  I  am  hungry.  To 
have  it,  I  must  do  so  and  so."  He  renders  explicit 
in  his  consciousness  a  collection  of  relations  and  laws 
which  are  valid  also  in  the  consciousness  of  the  brute, 
but  without  being  explicit  there  as  relations  and  laws, 
being  simply  enclosed  in  it  in  so  far  as  incorporated 
in  the  given  content.  To  do  this,  the  man  must  dis- 
tinguish himself  from  things  and  from  his  own  states, 
and  contrast  himself  with  things  and  with  his  own 
states.  To  render  explicit  to  himself  the  intrinsic 


128  The  Great  Problems 

arrangement  of  things  without  establishing  what  is, 
for  the  subject,  the  greatest,  the  constituent  element 
of  that  arrangement — the  distinction,  the  contrast  be- 
tween the  one  consciousness  and  the  things  of  which 
there  is  consciousness — is  not  possible. 

There  is  no  cognition  without  self-consciousness.  Per 
contra,  self-consciousness  is  itself  cognition.  Not  only 
so,  but  it  cannot  become  actual,  cannot  exist,  except 
in  so  far  as  there  are  (other)  cognitions.  Only  the 
"/"  judges,  but  the  "/"  exists  only  in  so  far  as  it 
judges.  The  drunkard  or  dreamer  is  not,  properly 
speaking,  an  "  /,"  though  he  has  been  one,  and  may 
be  so  again. 

To  help  the  child  to  gain  consciousness  of  self,  we 
only  try  to  help  him  to  gain  cognitions,  and  in  him 
the  acquirement  of  cognitions  and  of  consciousness  of 
self  proceed,  evidently,  pari  passu. 


CHAPTER  V 

VALUES 


THE  subject  gives  expression  to  an  activity  of  which  it  has 
consciousness.  This,  in  so  far  as  it  is  expressed  by  over- 
coming an  obstacle,  is  accompanied  by  a  feeling  Activity  and 
of  satisfaction,  while,  in  so  far  as  it  is  limited  Sju0ef:thee 
and  hindered  by  the  same  obstacle  which  it  8UbJect- 
overcomes,  it  is  accompanied  by  a  feeling  of  dissatisfac- 
tion. These  feelings,  mutually  inseparable,  but  not 
generally  in  equilibrium,1  are  the  first  or  elementary 
values.  Not  the  only  ones,  nor  yet  the  greatest  by  a  long 
way,  if  we  take  them  according  to  the  simple  concept 
which  we  have  given  of  them,  but  such  that  without 
them  no  other  value  would  be  comprehensible  or  possible. 
Why  does  the  subject  take  pleasure  in  expressing  its 
own  activity,  while  it  is  displeased  by  the  limits  and 
hindrance  which  the  same  activity  encounters  ?  We 
reply  that  the  activity  of  the  subject  is  a  constituent 
of  it,  or  rather  its  true  and  fundamental  constituent. 
The  acts  which  I  am  conscious  of  performing  are  mine, 
much  more  so  than  the  sense-percepts  or  even  recollec- 
tions, though  these  are  mine  too.  Because  sense-per- 
ceivables  can  be  perceived  by  others  as  well  as  by  me  ; 
they  have  no  essential  connection  with  me  alone.  And 
recollections,  although  they  can  only  be  included  in  that 
unity  of  consciousness  which  is  mine  through  the  manner 

1  The  predominance  of  the  one  or  the  other  is  determined  by  circum- 
stances which  will  be  discussed  later. 


130  The  Great  Problems 

in  which  I  have  consciousness  of  them,  are  comparable  with 
sense-perceivables  that  are  perceived  ;  before  recollection, 
as  before  sense- perception,  I  am  simply  a  spectator. 

The  variation,  both  of  sense-percepts  and  of  recollec- 
tions, is  doubtless  a  variation  of  the  subject,  but  not,  of 
itself  immediately,  an  action  of  his.  Now  a  subject 
which  did  not  act,  which  was  not  by  itself  a  centre  of 
spontaneous  activity,  could  be  reduced  to  a  representation 
—a  complex,  a  bundle  of  sense-percepts  and  recollections, 
and  variable  in  accordance  with  a  certain  law.  It  would 
not  be  that  which  has  the  representation.  Sense-per- 
ceivables become  perceived  by  a  subject  by  reason  of 
their  interfering  with  the  activity  of  the  subject,  and  to 
this  interference  we  owe  the  formation  of  the  recollections 
connected  with  the  sense-percepts  and  forming  with 
them  the  representation.  This  could  not  be  formed 
without  the  forming  activity.  (Besides,  can  we  conceive 
a  representation  with  no  one  to  possess  it  ?)  Sense- 
percepts  and  recollections  are  constituents  of  the  subject, 
but  subordinate  to  that  other  constituent  which  is  ac- 
tivity, which  therefore,  although  not  separable  from  the 
others,  must  be  regarded  as  the  principal  constituent. 
A  subject  exists  as  something  which  is  distinguished  from 
the  world  (though  not  separable  from  it)  and  from  every 
other  subject,  because  and  in  so  far  as  it  acts. 

In  the  expression,  then,  of  its  own  activity  among 
sense-perceivables,  or  among  the  obstacles  which  it  over- 
comes, and  consequently  in  making  itself  conscious  of  the 
obstacles,  in  making  the  sense-perceivables  percepts,  a 
subject  extends  itself— including  in  itself  an  ever  in- 
creasing part  of  reality,  it  develops  itself,  it  lives. 
Further,  with  this  actiinj  of  its,  the  subject  intensifies  its 
own  acting,  or  rather  its  own  existence.  For  the  activity 
of  the  subject  is  not  entirely  conscious.  The  body  of 
the  subject  is  a  storehouse  of  activity  which  develops 


Values  131 

itself  mostly  outside  the  subject's  consciousness,  though 
bound  up  with  the  conscious  activity  in  a  unity — seeing 
that  the  unity  of  consciousness  is  always,  even  in  this 
case,  made  complete  by  a  unity  of  unconsciousness.  And 
the  spontaneous  interference  of  the  subject  with  external 
reality  is  an  opportunity  through  which  many  elements 
of  activity,  unconscious  or  subconscious,  reach  conscious- 
ness with  the  result  of  intensifying  the  conscious  activity. 
A  child  developing  in  play  the  activity  of  which  it  has 
consciousness  raises  above  the  threshold  of  consciousness 
many  elements  of  activity  which  would  have  remained 
below  it  without  the  exercise  of  playing  :  to  say  nothing 
of  the  fact  that  the  recollections  accumulated  in  the  un- 
consciousness by  preceding  expressions  of  activity  are 
recalled  into  consciousness  by  the  actual  expression  of 
the  same  activity  more  often  than  by  the  accidental 
varying  of  sense-percepts.  In  renewing  the  work  the 
chain  of  recollections  which  had  been  broken  is  renewed  ; 
we  profit  by  past  experience,  and  make  ourselves  masters 
of  the  rules,  learned  ever  better  by  applying  them. 

We  may,  then,  conclude  that  the  subject  takes  plea- 
sure in  the  expression  with  vigorous  fullness  of  its  own 
activity,  because  this  expression  constitutes  an  increase,  a 
development,  of  its  own  being,  of  itself  in  all  that  con- 
stitutes it,  and  particularly  in  that  which  constitutes  it 
most  intimately ;  and  that,  on  the  other  hand,  the 
limitations,  the  hindrance  to  the  development  of  the 
activity,  in  so  far  as  they  are  not  conditions  of  this  same 
development  displease  the  subject  because  they  diminish 
it  and  mortify  it.  The  subject,  by  its  nature  or  in  virtue 
of  that  law  to  which  it  owes  its  being,  tends  in  general 
to  extend  itself,  to  expand  itself,  and  to  include  in  itself 
the  whole  universe.  The  satisfaction  or  otherwise  of 
these  two  tendencies  (which  in  substance  are  but  one)  is 
essentially  a  good  or  an  evil  for  the  subject. 


132  The  Great  Problems 


II 

All  this  is  true.     But  it  is  not  an  explanation  of 

value.     It  serves  to  direct  the  attention  of  one  who  has 

Primary          the  concept  of  value  in  the  right  direction  ;  it 

S^concep?    could  not  give  it  to  one  who  had  not  the 

concept  already. 

The  subject  is  capable  of  satisfaction  or  the  contrary, 
of  good  or  of  evil,  or,  let  us  say,  of  pleasure  or  of  pain. 
A  more  precise  distinction  is  not  needed  for  the  present, 
and  we  should  not  know  how  to  establish  it.  It  is 
capable  of  these  because  it  is  active.  But  the  activity 
of  the  subject  is  the  source,  the  raison  d'etre,  the 
constituent  of  value,  precisely  because  it  is  such  that 
its  manifesting  itself  or  its  being  hindered  from  doing 
so  is  a  good  or  an  evil  respectively  for  the  subject. 
The  reduction  of  value  to  activity  is  illusory  ;  if  it  has 
to  be  the  root  of  values,  activity  must  in  its  turn  be 
capable  of  value,  must  be  endowed  with  it.  Value 
must  be  an  element,  a  constituent  characteristic  of  it. 
The  concept  of  value  cannot  be  constructed. 

Two  bodies  attract  each  other  according  to  known 
laws.  They  tend  to  approach  each  other  along  the 
straight  line  which  unites  their  centres  of  gravity  with 
a  movement  whose  acceleration  constantly  increases  as 
the  distance  diminishes.  We  can  say  that  each  of  the 
two  bodies  manifests  an  activity.  We  can,  and  we 
must,  say  so  of  each  of  the  two  bodies  just  as  much  as 
of  any  subject  whatsoever  under  whatsoever  circum- 
stances. Neither  of  the  two  bodies  would  act  in  that 
way  if  the  other  did  not  resist,  but  no  more  would  a 
subject  act  in  that  way  if  there  were  nothing  external 
on  which  to  exercise  its  activity  and  so  manifest  it. 
May  the  rushing  together  of  the  two  bodies  in  a 


Values  133 

straight  line  perhaps  be  a  good  for  each  of  them  ?  Or  if 
such  a  tendency  cannot  be  realised  (because,  for  instance, 
one  of  the  two  bodies  has  a  velocity  in  the  opposite 
direction  of  the  straight  line  which  unites  their  centres 
of  gravity),  may  this  be  an  evil  for  one  or  both  of  the 
two  bodies  ? 

A  word  means  neither  more  nor  less  than  what  we 
wish  it  to  mean.  By  activity,  we  do  or  do  not  mean 
something  which  necessarily  by  itself  implies  value.  In 
the  first  case  we  can  base  a  theory  of  values  on  activity, 
a  true  theory,  but  one  which  will  not  have  deduced  or 
constructed,  but  will  have  presupposed,  the  concept  of 
value.  In  the  second  case  activity  will  be  only  a 
synonym  for  cause.  And  then  it  will  either  not  be 
possible  to  base  a  doctrine  of  values  on  activity,  or  we 
shall  have  to  recognise  an  intrinsic  value  even  in  purely 
physical  happening,  and  say,  for  instance,  that  the 
alteration  produced  by  an  acid  on  a  plate  of  white 
marble  is  something  comparable  to  the  painful  burn 
which  an  animal  would  have  experienced. 

Certainly,  causes  and  physical  laws  have  value  for 
a  subject — a  purely  practical  value,  in  so  far  as  they 
interfere  with  the  activity  of  the  subject,  favouring  or 
disturbing  it,1  and  a  knowledge -value  (still  practical, 
but  in  another  sense)  for  a  subject  capable  of  knowing 
them. 

Knowledge  has  a  value  for  us  apart  from  what  are 
commonly  called  its  applications.  But  in  one  way  or 
another,  causality  or  physical  reality  has  value  for  a 
subject,  indeed  for  every  subject.  Its  value  presupposes 
the  value  of  the  subject ;  it  does  not  serve  to  explain  it 
or  to  construct  it.  The  subject  would  have  no  value  of 
its  own  if  its  activity  had  not  characteristics  differing 

1  To  a   fish,  the   temperature    and   the    chemical    composition    of    the 
water  in  which  it  lives  are  not  indifferent. 


134  The  Great  Problems 

from   those  of  physical  reality.     In  this  case,  physical 
reality  would  have  no  value  for  any  subject — in  other 
words,  it  would  have  no  value  at  all.     Naturally,  we 
make  abstractions  from  every  doctrine  and  from  every 
supposition  as  to  the  essential  relations  between  physical 
reality   and  the  subject  in  general.     Physical  reality, 
supposing  it  to  be  the  matrix  in  which  subjects  are 
formed,  or  supposing  (on  the  contrary)  that  its  existence 
presupposes  the  existence  of  a  Universal  Subject  (no 
one  will  believe  that  it  presupposes  the  existence  of  any 
particular  determinate  subject — say  of  me  or  of  my  cat), 
would  not  be  without  an  intrinsic  value.     But  it  would 
have  it  as  a  condition  of  each  particular  subject,  or  as 
conditioned  by  a  Universal  Subject,  always  in  reference 
to  the  one  or  the  other.     As  physical  reality  pure  and 
simple,  like  the  given  environment  in  which  each  subject 
is  developed  and  lives  well  or  ill — considered  from  the 
point  of  view  from  which  a  particular  subject  considers 
or  apprehends  it — physical  reality  has  no  value  except 
for  the  subject.     In  itself  it  is  indifferent.     In  fact,  we 
cannot  even  assert  that  in  itself  it  exists.     The  subject, 
having  a  value  of  its  own,  lives,  and  therefore  brings 
into  existence  a  value  of  physical  reality  with  respect  to 
itself.      The    knowing    subject    will    be    able,    from    his 
reflections  on  this  fact,  to  recognise  an  intrinsic  value  in 

o 

physical  reality,  but  in  this  way  his  concept  of  physical 
reality  will  be  profoundly  modified.  In  physical  reality 
qua  physical  reality,  according  to  the  more  or  less 
adequate,  more  or  less  reformable  concept  which  we 
have  of  it  now,  it  is  impossible  to  recognise  any  value 
except  in  reference  to  subjects. 


Values  1 35 


III 

"  Very  good,"  say  our  opponents,  "  but  the  activity 
of  the  subject,  to  which  you  wish  to  reduce  value, 
from  which  alone  you  claim  that  value 

.    .  .  ,  T      Theoretic 

originates,  is  conscious  and  spontaneous.     It  comoiotun«iB 

•          i  j-  *•          r  1-1  *ndviau« 

remains   always   distinct  from  pure  physical 

causality  (of  which,  supposing  it  to  exist,  value  could 
never  be  a  result)  even  if  it  does  not  presuppose  that 
value  is  an  essential  constituent  of  it,  a  characteristic 
different  from  and  irreducible  to  consciousness  and 
spontaneity."  We  must  discuss  the  question  under 
this  new  aspect. 

The  theoretic  consciousness,  the  unity  of  certain 
sense-perceivables  perceived  and  of  the  recollections 
or  representations  which  are  associated  with  the  sense- 
percepts  and  in  some  degree  reproduce  them,  is,  as 
such,  without  value.  It  has  no  value  except  through 
its  connections  with  practical  consciousness  or  with 
activity  ~  with  an  activity  which  already,  from  the 
beginning,  is  not  only  activity,  and  not  even  theoreti- 
cally conscious  activity,  but  activity  and  value  to- 
gether. Hence  it  does  not  follow  that  the  value  of 
the  activity  or  of  the  subject  is  that  which  alone  we 
must  consider  as  an  essential  initial  element  of  the 
activity.  Associated  with  the  theoretic  consciousness 
—making  abstraction,  as  always,  of  cognition  properly 
so  called  —from  which  it  can  nowhere  be  separated, 
the  activity  intensifies  and  refines  itself.  Its  initial 
value  is  transformed  correlatively  with  the  enrichment 
and  complication  of  the  theoretic  consciousness  —  an 
enrichment  and  complication  due  in  great  part  to  the 
development  of  the  same  activity.  Tin;  intrinsic  value 
of  the  adult  animal  is  different  from  that  of  the  newly- 


136  The  Great  Problems 

born.  Who  doubts  it?  It  is  different  and  greater. 
Besides,  the  newly  -  born  child  can  have  only  the 
value  exclusively  its  own,  its  pleasure  and  its  pain, 
whereas  the  adult  animal,  to  a  certain  extent,  makes 
its  own  values,  which  initially  are  extraneous  to  it. 
It  is  beyond  doubt  that  the  theoretic  consciousness 
exercises  a  most  noteworthy  influence  on  the  trans- 
formation of  values.  But  it  exercises  such  an  influence, 
it  transforms  the  values,  because  the  values,  in  so  far 
as  elementary  or  initial,  are  already  there ;  it  would 
be  unable  to  create  them. 

Everyone  easily  recognises  that  the  value  of  a 
sense-percept — of  a  content  of  theoretic  consciousness 
—  is  less  in  proportion  as  the  associated  feeling  is 
more  languid,  as  its  connections  with  action  are  weaker 
and  fewer.  On  the  envelope  of  the  letter  I  receive, 
I  distinguish  readily  enough  the  place  where  the  stamp 
is.  It  does  not  matter  at  all  to  me.  The  place  of 
the  stamp  has,  however,  a  value  for  the  post-office 
employee,  because  on  it  depends  the  rapidity  of  putting 
on  the  post-mark,  or  because,  for  him,  the  content  is 
connected  with  action.  Not  wishing  either  to  reflect 
or  to  read,  I  shut  myself  up  in  the  dark  in  a  room, 
and  throw  myself  down  on  a  sofa  without  going  to 
sleep.  The  only  facts  of  which  I  have  clear  conscious- 
ness are  the  noises  which  reach  me  from  the  street. 
None  of  these  noises  matters  to  me  at  all.  The  collec- 
tion of  them  constitutes  a  distraction  which  is,  on  the 
whole,  moderately  pleasurable.  But  the  succession  of 
them  has  a  value,  which  the  sounds  one  by  one  have 
not,  because  by  occupying  the  field  of  my  consciousness, 
which  is  not  theoretic  only,  it  saves  me  from  the 
boredom  which  would  assail  me  in  those  circumstances. 
Making  abstraction  from  my  own  value  and  the 
practical  side  of  my  consciousness,  no  pure  content 


Values  137 

and  no  complication  of  pure  contents  would  have  any 
imaginable  value  for  me.  If  my  apprehension  is  only 
a  pure  bare  indifferent  apprehension,  it  is  impossible 
that  it  can  matter  to  me  whether  I  apprehend  one 
thing  rather  than  another,  in  one  way  or  in  another. 

Let  us  make  no  mistake.  We  do  not  deny  the 
value  of  the  theoretic  consciousness,  of  the  sense-percept 
and  the  recollection.  We  assert  that  the  theoretic 
consciousness  has  a  value  because  it  is  the  conscious- 
ness of  a  subject  which  already  possesses  a  value.  It 
possesses  it  because  its  consciousness  is  also  practical ; 
it  is  consciousness  of  an  activity  whose  value  con- 
stitutes an  initial  essential  characteristic. 


IV 

If  we  make  distinctions,  we  do  not  hypostatise.  We 
do  not  say  there  are  (1)  a  theoretic  consciousness  (of 
sense-percepts  and  recollections) ;  (2)  a  con- 

.  The  same 

sciousness   of  activity,  also  theoretic ;    (3)  a     argument 

J'  .  continued. 

strictly  practical  consciousness  ot  value — as 
three  separate  consciousnesses  which  unite  to  constitute 
the  unity  of  the  subject.  There  is  one  subject  which 
means  one  consciousness,  which  is  at  the  same  time  con- 
sciousness of  certain  sense-percepts  and  certain  recollec- 
tions, consciousness  of  activity,  and  consciousness  of  the 
value  of  this  activity.  They  are  three  aspects  or  three 
characteristics  of  the  same  consciousness,  not  three  sepa- 
rate consciousnesses.  Each  of  the  three  characteristics 
presupposes  the  other  two,  but  that  simply  proves  that 
each  is  primary  and  irreducible,  that  the  claims,  which  we 
oppose,  to  explain  value  by  means  of  the  conscious  activity 
is  absurd.  It  either  is  value  by  itself  (or  has  the  charac- 
teristics of  value  beside  those  of  being  cause  of  being 
conscious),  or  it  will  never  become  value  to  all  eternity. 


138  The  Great  Problems 

This  bar  makes  an  electric  current  change  its  course 
because  it  is  magnetised,  not  because  it  is  of  iron.  And 
yet  it  is  true  that  if  it  were  not  of  iron  it  could  not 
have  been  magnetised.  Similarly  the  subject  has  value 
because  it  has  value,  not  because  it  is  theoretically 
conscious  of  something  else,  and  not  even  because  con- 
scious of  its  own  action  (supposing  that  its  own  action  is 
not  already  a  value).  This  remains  true,  and  yet  it  is 
true  that  if  the  subject  were  not  conscious  of  something 
else,  and  of  its  own  action,  it  would  have  no  value 
because  it  would  not  exist. 

Let  us  imagine  a  subject  which  changes  without  its 
variation  mattering  to  it  at  all.  Would  there  be  sense 
in  the  supposition  that  that  variation  was  referable  to 
the  subject  as  a  spontaneous  action  on  its  part  ?  An 
action  is  spontaneous  when  it  is  an  end  to  itself  and  has 
its  own  raison  d'etre  in  that  end.  If  we  eliminate  the 
value  which  the  action  has  for  the  subject,  its  raison 
d'etre  is  incomprehensible.  The  varying,  per  se  indif- 
ferent, of  the  subject  might  be  determined  by  an  intrinsic 
mechanism  of  the  subject,  and  might  therefore  always  be 
considered  as  an  action  of  the  subject,  in  so  far  as  it 
could  be  distinguished  from  a  determinate  varying 
ab  extra.  But  however  complicated  it  was,  it  would 
remain  an  indifferent  varying.  Besides,  a  subject  which 
could  be  reduced  to  a  pure  intrinsic  mechanism  would 
not  even  be  conscious,  and  would  not  be  a  subject  but  a 
thing. 

A  thing  is  also  a  unity,  and  it  is  a  unity  of  facts  of 
consciousness.  What  is  wanting  which  prevents  its 
being  a  unity  of  consciousness,  a  subject  ?  Precisely, 
passionality,  interest,  or  value.  Besides  the  existence 
of  a  happening  connected  with  certain  facts,  this  hap- 
pening must  matter  to  it.  If,  on  the  one  hand,  the 
"mattering"  presupposes  the  subject,  on  the  other  it  is 


Values  1 39 

a  condition  of  the  subject's  existence.  It  constitutes, 
between  the  facts  which  it  connects,  a  vinculum  sui 
generis,  in  virtue  of  which  the  subject  perceives  them 
as  its  own  modifications.  Without  unity  of  practical 
consciousness,  there  can  be  no  unity  of  theoretic 
consciousness,  and  vice  versa.1 

This  result,  which  we  have  already  obtained  by 
other  paths,  is  continually  brought  before  us.  It  is 
certainly  the  most  adequate  expression  of  the  unity  of  the 
subject.  Simple,  unprejudiced  observation  confirms  it  in 
the  clearest  way.  Not  everything  of  which  we  are  con- 
scious is  of  equal  importance  to  us,  but  nothing  of  which 
we  are  conscious  is  of  no  importance  to  us  at  all.  It 
does  not  take  much  to  make  us  understand  and  recog- 
nise as  a  fact  of  every  moment  that  a  thing  which 
could  not  under  any  circumstances  be  of  any  importance 
to  us  could  not  be  included  in  our  theoretic  consciousness. 
We  are  always  brought  back  to  the  primitive  nature  of 
the  concept  of  value,  to  the  impossibility  of  constructing 
it  from  elements  which  do  not  presuppose  it.  Activity 
and  spontaneity  are  no  exceptions.  Activity  can 
increase  its  value  by  manifesting  itself,  but  it  cannot 
create  value,  and  a  spontaneity  which  is  not  at  the  same 
time  value  is  a  meaningless  word. 

It  is  true,  "  Every  valuation  presupposes  a  volition 
which  takes  up  a  position  and  seeks  satisfaction"  We 
are  speaking  for  the  present  of  values  lived,  not  of 
value-judgments,  and  hence  not  even  of  volition  in  a 
strict  sense.  But  why  do  I  wish  to  take  up  a  position 
among  things  and  men  ?  Because  it  is  of  importance  to 
me ;  or  because  my  good  or  my  evil  depend  in  part  on 
my  position.  Without  this,  the  position  would  be  as 
indifferent  to  me  as  to  a  stone,  and  I  should  be  as 

1  If  priority  is  to  be  considered  at  all,  it  belongs  to  the  practical  con- 
sciousness of  value. 


140  The  Great  Problems 

capable  of  volition  as  a  stone.  If  every  valuation  pre- 
supposes volition,  so  also  every  wish,  nay,  every 
conscious  spontaneous  activity,  presupposes  a  foundation 
of  valuation — presupposes  a  value  not  created  by  the 
volition  or  activity,  a  value  which  is  an  essential  con- 
stituent of  the  volition  or  activity. 


The  special  value  of  the  subject,  lived  by  the  subject, 
can  be  reduced  to  the  activity  of  the  subject  itself.  It 
value  and  1S  positive  (good)  or  negative  (evil)  according 
feeling.  as  ^ne  activity  is  undisturbed  or  disturbed. 

But  activity  is  not  value  in  so  far  as  it  is  simply  cause, 
in  so  far  as  it  modifies  the  unity  of  consciousness  and 
unconsciousness  by  which  the  subject  is  constituted— 
the  soul,  the  body,  and  the  external  world  which  is  the 
immediate  environment  of  the  body.  Activity,  to  be 
value  or  rather  to  be  the  subject's  activity,  must  be 
conscious.  Not  only  so,  but  it  must  be  practically 
conscious.  It  must  be  practical,  I  mean,  not  only  in  its 
results,  but  in  the  manner  in  which  there  is  conscious- 
ness of  it.  In  other  words,  my  apprehension  of  my 
action  must  not  be  a  purely  cold  and  indifferent 
apprehension.  The  consciousness  which  I  have  of  my 
acting  must  differ  in  its  characteristics  from  that  which 
I  have  of  the  varying  of  a  sense-perceivable  of  no 
importance  to  me.  My  acting  would  not  be  acting  if  it 
were  of  no  importance  to  me.  But  it  would  have  no 
importance  for  me  if  the  consciousness  which  I  have  of  it 
did  not  constitute  this  importance,  if  it  could  be  reduced 
to  a  perceiving,  to  a  fact  of  theoretic  consciousness. 

Strictly  speaking,  an  apprehension  which  is  only  a 
purely  cold  and  indifferent  apprehension  does  not  exist. 
An  apprehension  which  was  not  associated  with  acting 


Values  141 

would  not  be  an  apprehension.  The  unity  of  the 
subject  is  essentially  practical.  A  something  which  had 
no  relation  to  the  activity  of  the  subject  would  be 
outside  the  unity  of  the  subject,  and  the  subject  would 
have  no  consciousness  of  it.  Consciousness  that  is 
theoretic,  and  theoretic  only,  is  not  a  reality ;  it  is  an 
abstraction — an  abstraction  suggested  to  us  by  the  fact 
that  the  elements  which  we  apprehend  have  not  all  the 
same  importance.  The  interest  varies  from  a  maximum 
to  a  minimum — indefinite  and  very  distant  from  each 
other.  In  order  to  study,  we  must  inevitably  dis- 
tinguish, abstract,  and  consider  separately  things  which 
are  inseparable.  We  cannot  form  a  theory  of  anything 
real,  much  less  of  that  complex  which  is  the  unity  of 
consciousness,  without  dividing  it  into  parts.  Many 
perceptions,  which  are  certainly  perceptions  like  the 
others,  have  ordinarily  little  importance  for  us.1  There- 
fore we  have  good  reason  to  suppose  that  importance  is 
not  essential  to  perception.  Thus  we  arrive  at  the 
concept  of  theoretic  consciousness — an  abstraction  which 
constitutes  an  inadequate  and  erroneous  concept  of 
reality  if  it  is  mistaken,  as  it  is  by  many,  for  a  reality. 
The  error,  though  not  negligible,  is  not  of  much  con- 
sequence in  the  study  of  the  facts  of  perception,  but  it 
becomes  absolutely  disastrous  in  reference  to  the  facts  of 
value,  to  the  activity.  In  studying  the  function  of  the 
skeleton,  for  instance,  we  can  to  a  certain  extent 
neglect  the  fact  that  the  skeleton  of  a  living  animal  is 
itself  also  living,  and  regard  it  as  a  structure,  a  solid 
and  articulate  framework  which  might  even,  to  a 
certain  degree,  be  made  of  metal.  But  woe  to  us  if  we 

1  A  little  importance  there  always  is — so  true  is  this  that  an  insigni- 
ficant thing  can,  under  certain  conditions,  become  most  important.  A 
noise,  which  by  day  I  should  scarcely  have  noticed,  attracts  my  attention 
by  night. 


142  The  Great  Problems 

applied  the  same  criterion  to  the  study  of  the  nervous 
system ! 

It  is  essential  to  the  activity  which  is  the  root  of 
value,  in  order  that  it  may  be  the  root  of  value,  in 
order  that  it  may  be  the  activity  of  a  subject,  that 
the  subject  should  have  a  consciousness  of  it  other 
than  theoretic.  It  must  be  different  from  what  (with 
an  abstraction  which  not  even  in  this  case  renders  the 
reality  exactly)  we  picture  to  ourselves  the  perceptive 
consciousness  as  being,  the  consciousness  of  sense- percept, 
of  representations  and  recollections,  or,  in  a  word,  of 
contents.  A  tonality  which  is  always  pleasing  or  pain- 
ful is  essential  to  the  consciousness  of  activity. 

We  will  say  that  a  feeling  is  always  associated 
with  the  theoretic  (perceptive)  consciousness  of  activity. 
Here  also,  and  here  more  than  ever,  we  must  be  on 
our  guard  against  the  suggestions  of  language.  It  is 
not  to  be  believed  that  the  theoretic  consciousness  of 
activity  and  the  feeling  are  two  facts,  always  associated 
indeed  but  quite  distinct,  as,  for  instance,  our  parents 
are  always  associated  as  parents  and  yet  are  distinct 
as  subjects.  No,  the  fact  is  but  one,  and  only  considered 
under  two  different  aspects.  I  apprehend  what  I  see 
without  its  being  of  importance  to  me.  And  in  a  sense 
I  apprehend  in  the  same  way  also  what  I  do.  I  can 
abstract  from  the  value  which  what  I  do  has  for  me. 
On  the  other  hand,  I  can  abstract  from  this  way  of 
apprehending  my  acting,  and  attend  to  its  value  only. 
I  perceive  my  acting *  and  have  the  feeling  of  it.  But 
I  perceive  it  in  so  far  as  I  have  the  feeling  of  it,  and 
I  have  the  feeling  of  it  in  so  far  as  I  perceive  it. 

1  The  perception  of  an  acting  must  not  be  confounded  with  that  of 
its  particularity  or  modality  which  might  also  be  an  element  of  quite 
a  different  happening.  My  walking,  for  instance,  as  an  action  performed 
by  me,  is  not  the  same  as  my  changing  place.  I  might  also  be  transported 
by  an  external  force. 


Values  1 43 

Since  from  the  consciousness  of  acting,  or  from  con- 
scious acting,  we  have  made  abstraction  of  the  perceptive, 
theoretic  moment,  we  must,  unless  we  wish  to  lose 
sight  of  the  reality  of  the  perceptive  fact,  take  notice 
that  the  feeling  is  associated  with  the  perceptive 
moment.  And  this  feeling,  as  "something"  by  itself, 
can  also  be  reduced  to  an  abstraction.  I  have  said 
enough  to  prevent  misunderstanding  in  the  way  of 
hypostatising  feeling.  It  results  from  all  this  that  the 
value  of  the  subject,  lived  by  the  subject,  just  because 
it  can  be  reduced  to  the  activity  of  the  subject  itself, 
is  realised  in  feeling. 

VI 

A  difficulty  which  would  be  decisive  if  it  held  good 
is  raised  against  the  reduction  of  value  to  feeling- 
feeling  is  a  simple  content.  Certainly  physio-  whether 
logical  feeling  is  inseparable  from  sensation  ;  {^compared 
it  is  the  tonality  of  a  sensation.1  But  pre-  toacontent- 
cisely  on  this  account  even  physiological  feeling  is  ulti- 
mately distinguished  from  a  content.  Being  a  content 
and  being  tonality  are  contradictory  and  opposite.  In 
my  consciousness  an  element  is  a  simple  content  and  I 
am  simply  a  spectator  of  it,  in  so  far  as  its  existence 
or  non-existence  are  equally  unimportant  to  me — though, 
as  we  have  already  repeatedly  mentioned  that  the  non- 
importance  is  never  absolute,  the  subject  as  a  simple 
spectator,  the  theoretic  consciousness  as  a  simple  re- 
ceptacle of  contents,  are  abstractions.  Of  a  feeling, 
however,  I  am  never  a  simple  spectator  ;  I  cannot  have 
a  pain  in  my  consciousness  without  suffering  if. 

1  A  feeling  is  always  the  tonality  of  a  fact  of  consciousness  which  can 
never  be  reduced  to  pure  tonality,  but  always  possesses,  though  not 
always  in  equal  degsee,,  also  the  other  characteristics  essential  to  con- 
sciousness. We  make  a  distinction,  we  do  not  pretend  to  separate. 


144  The  Great  Problems 

Suppose  a  mirror  conscious  of  the  images  it  reflects. 
Its  consciousness,  which  would  be  the  reflecting,  would 
be  theoretic,  and  would  have  for  contents  the  images. 
In  fact  it  would  not  be  important  at  all  to  it  to  reflect 
one  image  rather  than  another.  Whatever  image  it 
reflects  or  has  reflected,  the  mirror  is  always  capable 
of  reflecting  indifferently  any  others  whatsoever.  But 
let  the  mirror  be  imperfect  and  conscious  of  its  own 
imperfection.  This  consciousness  could  not  be  called 
purely  theoretic.  Although  it  is  consciousness,  both 
the  imperfection  and  the  reflection  have  a  common  char- 
acteristic, hence  even  from  the  consciousness  of  the 
imperfection  it  may  be  possible  to  abstract  a  moment 
which  may  be  called  theoretic.  But  the  imperfection 
modifies  the  mirror  intrinsically  ;  for,  being  imperfect, 
it  is  no  longer  fitted  to  reflect  images  as  before.  The 
consciousness  of  the  imperfection  would  be  comparable 
to  a  feeling.  Between  a  reflected  image  and  an  imper- 
fection the  difference  is  quite  evident.  I  do  not  give 
this  comparison  as  a  proof,  but  to  put  in  relief  the 
difference  erroneously  neglected  between  feeling  and 
content  of  theoretic  consciousness ;  it  is  even  more  than 
is  needed. 

Feeling  and  theoretic  consciousness  are  bound  to- 
gether in  the  unity  of  the  subject ;  they  mutually  modify 
and  condition  each  other.  I  said  before  (and,  I  think, 
rightly)  that  the  content  of  sensations  is  presented 
to  us  as  external  reality,  thanks  to  its  connection  with 
feeling-  I  can  indeed  modify  the  content  of  sensation, 
but  only  within  certain  limits  and  submitting  to  certain 
laws.  I  feel  myself  bound  to  it.  And  my  feeling 
myself  bound  to  it  is  a  feeling  immediately  unpleasant, 
although  custom  diminishes  its  unpleasantness  and 
associations  may  make  it  acquire  a  positive  value.  The 
walls  of  the  house  hinder  us  from  wandering  absolutely 


Values  1 45 

ad  libitum ;  in  compensation  they  defend  us  from  cold, 
from  bores,  and  from  thieves.  It  is  a  more  than 
sufficient  compensation. 

On  the  other  hand,  physiological  feeling  is  evidently 
determined  by  the  content  of  sensation ;  it  is  the  con- 
sciousness of  a  modification  which  the  content,  the  sense- 
perceivable  perceived,  produces  in  us.  And  the  character 
of  the  feeling  depends  in  part  on  that  of  the  content, 
not  only  on  the  consciousness,  implicit  or  explicit,  which 
we  have  of  certain  laws  of  reality,  i.e.  of  the  content. 
We  cannot  console  ourselves  for  the  death  of  one  we 
love  on  the  ground  that  the  dead  never  return.  But 
the  undeniable  connection  between  the  two  forms  of 
consciousness,  or  rather  their  inseparability,  far  from 
authorising  us  to  deny  the  distinction,  proves  it.  The 
relations  between  feelings  and  contents  are  different 
from  those  between  contents  only  or  between  feelings 
only. 

We  must  remember  that  the  content  may  be  common 
to  any  number  of  subjects.  Can  the  feeling  ?  One  and 
the  same  sense-perceivable  is  perceived  by  Titius  and  by 
Sempronius.  On  the  other  hand,  the  pain  of  Titius  is 
exclusively  peculiar  to  Titius.  Sernpronius  may  suffer 
an  equal  pain  (who  can  tell  ?),  but  at  any  rate  the  pains 
are  two,  numerically  distinct.  Therefore  with  the 
disappearance  of  Titius,  the  content  of  his  consciousness 
does  not  disappear  ;  it  merely  ceases  to  be  content  of  the 
consciousness  of  Titius.  But  with  the  disappearance  of 
Titius,  his  feelings  vanish  absolutely. 

The  objection  which  we  have  examined  does  not  hold 
good.  Feelings  can  be  values.  They  are  values,  not 
even  excepting  physiologicial  pleasures  and  pains. 
These  are  certainly  not  the  highest  values,  hut  that 
does  not  mean  that  they  are  negligible.  Since  we 
cannot  avoid  suffering,  we  must  resign  ourselves  to  it, 

K 


146  The  Great  Problems 

and  make  it  serve  as  a  means  to  the  attainment  of  some 
good.  But  no  one  will  say  that  a  man  has  a  true 
concept  of  value  if  the  sufferings  of  other  men,  or  even 
of  brute  beasts,  appear  to  him  valueless. 

Aristotle  says  that  rather  than  stain  ourselves  with 
baseness  we  should  be  ready  to  suffer  the  most  terrible 
things,  and  he  is  evidently  right.  But  if  these  things 
which  we  must  be  ready  to  suffer  were  valueless,  they 
would  not  be  terrible,  and  then  it  would  not  be 
admirable  to  suffer  them  in  order  not  to  stain  ourselves. 
And  pleasure,  although  its  positive  value  is,  all  con- 
sidered, inferior  to  the  negative  value  of  pain,  yet,  if 
tasted  as  it  ought  to  be,  it  is  not  only  a  restorative  which 
we  could  not  do  without — it  is  divine.  Pleasures  and 
pains,  with  their  interchange  with  the  fervour  of  the 
passions  which  they  arouse  in  us,  give  to  a  man  who  has 
understanding  and  will  the  way  of  accomplishing  and 
realising  the  highest  values,  and  they  constitute  together 
the  most  serious  obstacles  which  must  be  overcome  in 
the  attainment  of  higher  values.  How  can  we  deny 
that  they  are  values  ? 


VII 

It   is  said,    "  With    the   impression    produced   by  a 

stimulus  there  is  associated  an  activity  which  tends  to 

make  the   stimulus  persist  or   to  remove   it. 

The  com- 
plication of      Feeling    is    only    the    consciousness    of    this 

activity.  It  is  not  true,  then,  that  the  activity 
intervenes  because  the  feeling  precedes  it,  but  the 
feeling  arises  because  an  activity  reacts."  Let  us  discuss 
this.  A  feeling  which  "arises  because  an  activity 
reacts"  is  quite  a  new  thing,  following  the  activity  and 
distinct  from  it.  Now  among  the  constituents  of  a 
subject  there  is  certainly  an  essentially  conscious  activity. 


Values  147 

If  feeling  is  truly  "  the  consciousness  of  this  activity,"  it 
cannot  be  distinguished  from  it  as  something  new  and 
following. 

Furthermore,  the  activity  now  "tends  to  make  the 
stimulus  persist,"  now  "  to  remove  it."  Why  ?  The 
reactions  of  an  activity  which  is  the  conscious  activity 
of  a  subject  cannot  be  reduced  to  a  psycho-physiological 
causal  mechanism.  The  reason,  then,  can  only  consist 
in  the  stimulus  being  apprehended  respectively  as 
pleasant  or  painful.  The  feeling,  then,  would  always 
precede  the  activity,  in  opposition  to  what  has  been 
stated. 

To  understand  the  relations  of  feeling  with  the 
activity,  and  its  true  meaning  in  relation  to  the  value  of 
the  subject,  we  must  make  a  distinction.  Initially  the 
subject's  activity  expresses  itself,  not  by  seeking  a  good 
which  is  distinct  from  it,  but  because  the  expression  is 
pleasurable  in  itself.  The  child  does  not  play  for  any 
secondary  end,  but  for  the  joy  of  being  active,  of 
expanding  itself  in  the  game.  The  spontaneous  move- 
ments, without  external  finality,  of  all  animals  in  their 
first  phases  of  life  prove  the  initial  identity  of  undis- 
turbed action  with  enjoyment.  This  initial  identity 
gives  an  ample  reason  why  every  stimulus  is  sufficient 
to  provoke  an  expression  of  activity,  if  indeed  we  ought 
to  speak  of  the  provocation  as  an  absolute  prius  with 
regard  to  the  expression.  The  constituent  energy  of 
the?  subject  and  some  external  energy  are  always  in 
relation,  and  mutually  condition  each  other  as  parts  of 
the  same  whole.  They  interfere  in  so  far  as  they  exist, 
and  because  they  exist. 

On  the  other  hand,  without  the  said  initial  identity 
no  stimulus  could  provoke  an  activity  which  is  a  value, 
which  in  expressing  itself  realises  new  and  higher  values. 
The  very  concept  of  subjective  activity  as  distinct  from 


148  The  Great  Problems 

physical  causality  vanishes.  But  the  full  identity  is 
only  initial.  There  soon  arises,  in  the  higher  animals  at 
least,  a  difference  which  does  not  destroy  it,  but  imposes 
itself  upon  it.  The  reason  has  been  already  given.  In 
its  body  the  subject  possesses  a  storehouse,  or  rather  a 
system  of  energies,  partly  prearranged,  which  goes  on 
arranging  itself.  These  are  to  a  very  great  extent  un- 
conscious— they  are  included  in  that  unity  of  uncon- 
sciousness from  which  the  unity  of  consciousness  is  in- 
separable. The  conscious  activity  whose  undisturbed 
self-expression  is  per  se  a  good,  and  whose  non-expression 
or  disturbed  expression  is  per  se  an  evil,  depends  for  its 
more  or  less  undisturbed  expression  on  the  conditions  of 
the  unconscious  activity,  intrinsic  in  the  unity  of  uncon- 
sciousness and  relative  to  the  external  world.  From 
this  it  results  (no  one  will  pretend  that  we  can  say 
exactly  in  what  way)  that  the  conditions  of  the  unity  of 
unconsciousness,  and  particularly  the  state  of  the  body 
reach  consciousness. 

They  reach  it  under  the  form  of  feeling.  The  in- 
trinsic state  of  the  body  and  its  relations  with  other 
bodies  are  such  as  to  favour  or  hinder  the  undisturbed 
expression  of  the  conscious  activity,  to  intensify  its 
power,  or  to  create  contrasts  which  disturb  it.  For  the 
subject  the  first  state  of  things  is  a  good,  the  second  an 
evil.  A  good  or  an  evil,  not  always  but  in  many  cases 
(indirectly  one  might  in  the  end  always  say),  are  appre- 
hended by  the  subject  under  the  form  of  happiness  or 
pleasure,  or  else  of  unhappiness  or  pain.  And  so  not 
only  the  general  state  of  the  body,  but  also  the  states 
(internal  or  external)  of  some  or  many  of  the  several 
parts,  may  reach  consciousness.  This  gives  rise  to  a 
great  multiplicity  and  variety  of  feelings,  some  even 
opposed  to  one  another.  For  instance,  a  pain  in  a  limb 
may  be  associated  with  the  pleasure  of  drinking. 


Values  1 49 

Can  these  feelings,  which  we  will  call  simple,  always 
associated  with  sensations  and  penetrated  by  them,  be 
reduced  to  activity  ?  Without  doubt ;  but  on  condition 
that  we  pay  regard  not  only  to  the  conscious  activity 
but  to  all  the  activity  together,  unified  alike  in  the  con- 
sciousness and  unconsciousness  of  the  subject.  They  are, 
in  fact,  the  conscious  manifestations  of  a  practical 
character,  implicitly  of  value,  of  the  state  in  which  the 
system  of  the  unconscious  activities,  or  a  part  of  such 
system,  happens  to  be.  Just  as  the  activity,  which  by 
their  means  makes  its  way  into  consciousness  and  there 
makes  itself  of  value,  does  not  arrive  as  such  in  con- 
sciousness, or  only  in  a  fragmentary  manner,  the  subject 
does  not  apprehend  the  immediate  connection  of  the 
said  feelings  with  the  activity.  In  fact,  these  have  no 
immediate  connection  with  that  activity  of  which  the 
subject  is  conscious. 

Hence  it  happens  that  the  simple  feelings  appear  to 
the  subject  as  extraneous  elements  which  arrive  from 
outside,  and  make  their  way  into  consciousness  like 
sense -perceivables,  perceived,  we  might  say,  with  dif- 
ferent specific  characteristics.  And  the  appearance  is 
not  illusory.  The  simple  feeling,  if  it  has  no  root  out- 
side the  subject,  has  its  root  outside  his  consciousness. 
On  touching  a  hot  iron,  I  feel  myself  burned  by  it  just  as 
I  feel  its  resistance.  Here  we  have  an  ample  reason  for 
a  fact  which  is  one  of  the  most  common,  but  which  would 
not  be  conceivable  or  possible  if  feeling  had  its  root  only 
in  the  conscious  activity.  Gradually  as  the  soul  pro- 
ceeds to  systematise  itself  under  the  pressure  of  ex- 
perience— let  us  neglect  cognition  for  the  present — the 
simple  feelings  end  by  predominating  the  conscious 
activity  and  subordinating  it  to  themselves. 

The  new-born  animal  acts  for  acting's  sake.  It 
moves  without  any  external  finality  solely  because  the 


150  The  Great  Problems 

movement  satisfies  it.  The  adult  animal,  and  also  man, 
in  so  far  as  he  conducts  himself  like  an  animal,  acts  in 
preference  to  attain  some  end  which  certainly  is  not 
external  to  the  subject,  but  external  to  the  activity 
which  is  manifested  in  the  attainment  of  it.  He  seeks 
pleasure,  he  avoids  pain.  We  are  not  inquiring  how 
the  action  can  be  directed  towards  an  end  and  attain  it, 
though  not  guided  by  cognition.  One  thing  we  ought 
to  note — the  end,  when  not  indicated  by  a  blind  instinct, 
is  represented,  and  represented  as  something  different 
from  the  action,  which  is  therefore  riot  an  end  in  itself. 

The  animal,  or  the  baby,  which  at  first  acted  for 
acting's  sake,  soon  learns  to  its  own  cost  that  the 
satisfaction  given  to  it  by  the  incoherent  expression 
of  its  activity  is  largely  compensated  by  pains,  brought 
upon  it  by  this  same  incoherent  expression.  It  learns, 
on  the  other  hand,  that  there  are  pleasures  more  intense 
than  that  satisfaction,  though  not  so  simple.  Recol- 
lections, representations,  and  expectations  give  rise  to 
processes  which,  if  they  are  not  real  and  true  com- 
parisons, have  the  practical  consequences  of  such.  Fears, 
hopes,  determinate  desires,  arise  and  create  ever  more 
precise  bonds  to  the  spontaneous  activity  from  the  outside. 
The  activity  goes  on  adapting  itself  ever  more  and  more 
to  an  ever  more  rigid  framework,  and,  although  it  always 
preserves  some  traces  of  its  primitive  autonomy,  it  goes 
on  systematising  itself  ever  more  heteronomously.  To 
give  it  an  autonomous  systernatisation,  to  preserve  or 
re-establish  its  spontaneity — a  spontaneity  arranged 
according  to  laws  imposed  on  itself  by  itself — is  the 
peculiar  practical  function  of  cognition,  of  which  more 
hereafter. 


Values  1 5 1 


VIII 

In  the  unity  of  the  subject  tho  footings  are  associated 
with  one  another,  and  with  tho  othor  elements  alike 
of  consciousness  and  of  unconsciousness.  Thoy 

I 

modify  one  another ;   they  modify  the  other 

j  •  continued. 

elements  of  consciousness  and  unconsciousness,    B«U  oontrmi 
and  are  modified  by  them.*     Thus  it  happens    Y»iu«in 
that  the  general  state  of  the  subject  changes, 
approximating,  or   tending    to  approximate,  to  a  con- 
dition   of  variable   equilibrium   both    internal    and   ox- 
ternal.     Nor  is  it  only  the  state,  but  tho  organisation 
of  the   subject   tends    to  change — the  organisation   on 
which  depends  its  aptitude  for  being  in  a  certain  state, 
its  disposition   towards  one  or  othor  form  of  variable 
equilibrium.     This  tendency,   indications  of  which   can 
already  be  seen  in  tho  life  of  a  subject,11  becomes  evident 
when  it  is  considered  as  a  series  of  successive  generations. 
Life  develops  itself  according   to   laws  absolutely  irro 
ducible  to  laws  either  physical  or  physiological,  bocn.u so 
life  in  developing  itself  tends  towards  an  end  wliirh   is 
not  in  tho  consciousness  of  any  one   individual  subject, 
but    which    goes    on    realising    itself    by    means    of    l.he 
conscious  aims  of  tho  individual  subjects.     If  wo  suppress 
the    individual    unities  of  consciousness,    we   shall    havo 
suppressed,    along    with    the    values    which     cannot,    be 

1   Eccentricity. 

'    I  In1  mutual  modification  and  interference  wit!)  <>rm  anothnr  of  i 
element!*  of  which  tho  conscious  and   iiiiconHoioiiM  unity  of  tint  nulij 
composed  prov(>H  that  at  bottom  tlioy  an>  nil  miinifi-Ntfit 
eimrgy.     Tho  activity,  moro  or  IOHH  conicioiu  or  totally  in 
something  which  IH  accompanied  by  or  associated  with  HOI 
the  substantial  nucleus  of  ovury  |>Hyrhicitl  fad,     thtt  dillm    nl    I»MHM  wlndi 
it  aHMumuH  depending  on  tlm  condilioiiH  of  il.M  ni.uiih   .1  • 

a  To  say  nothing  of  tho  mutfunorphosuH  of  many  aniiniil'i.     <  'i>nij>ar«t  thu 
young  adult  with  thu  child,  the  child  with  thu  baby. 


H't     IM 


M    III  it 


152  The  Great  Problems 

separated  from  these,  the  motive  force  of  the  develop- 
ment. The  animal  tends  towards  its  improvement.  It 
may  attain  it  or  not,  but  in  trying  to  do  so  it  co- 
operates, without  knowing  it,  to  develop  life,  to 
increase  its  value — that  is,  to  render  possible  to  other 
animals  which  will  come  after  the  realisation  of  higher 
values. 

What  has  been  said  about  the  mutual  interference 
of  the  psychical  facts  bound  together  in  the  unity  of 
the  subject  cannot  be  interpreted  in  an  associationist 
sense.  Sensations,  representations,  recollections,  mani- 
festations of  activity,  feelings,  presuppose  the  subject  of 
which  they  are  determinations.  They  would  vanish  if 
the  subject  vanished.  If  a  subject  were  taken  away, 
nothing  would  remain  of  the  elements  of  which  that 
subject  is  the  unity  but  the  contents  of  sensation  alone, 
and  these  not  as  contents  but  as  sense-perceivables 
bound  together  by  physical  laws.  With  respect  to  its 
determinate  features,  the  facts  of  its  consciousness,  the 
subject  is  certainly  something  primary.  In  it  we  must 
recognise  an  activity,  a  sensation  (of  its  own  body),  and 
also  a  feeling — all  these  primitive,  fundamental — suc- 
cessively breaking  out  into  acts,  sensations,  and  simple 
feelings.  The  fundamental  feeling,  as  condition  of  there 
being  simple  feelings,  cannot  be  reduced  to  a  resultant 
of  these. 

But  we  must  also  recognise  that  the  subject  is  only 
truly  conscious  in  its  determinate  states.  What  is  de- 
termined— what  is  presupposed  by  the  determinate 
states  and  cannot  be  separated  from  them— remains  in 
subconsciousness,  or  is  driven  there  by  the  much  more 
vivid  consciousness  of  the  determinate  states. 

So  the  value  of  a  living  subject  is  constituted  by  the 
resultant  of  its  simple  feelings.  It  is  quite  clear  that 
these  are  compounded  by  laws  other  than  physical. 


Values  1 53 

The  stronger  of  two  opposed  feelings  prevails.  But 
the  two  feelings  are  not  two  groups  of  units  of  the  same 
kind ;  a  comparison  between  their  quantities  is  not 
possible.  The  stronger  is  the  one  which  has  more  value, 
and  the  difference  of  value  is  not  reducible  to  anything 
else.  It  is  also  clear  that  in  the  resultant  of  the  feelings 
the  other  psychical  elements  also  assert  their  value, 
especially  the  recollections  and  expectations.  But  the 
other  elements  assert  their  value  in  it  indirectly.  A 
given  simple  feeling  is  not  something  like  a  stone,  which 
is  almost  the  same  in  a  quarry,  in  a  heap,  or  in  a  wall. 
It  cannot  be  separated  from  the  whole  in  which  it  is  in- 
cluded ;  it  is  what  it  is  because  it  is  included  in  a  certain 
whole.  True,  but  the  good  or  evil  of  the  subject  at  a  given 
time  depends  on  its  actual  feelings  (which  depend  in  their 
turn  on  the  other  psychical  facts) ;  they  are  the  resultant 
of  them — a  resultant  that,  although  sui  generis,  altogether 
different  from  a  mechanical  resultant,  is  still  determined 
by  what  the  simple  feelings  are.  The  activity  of  the 
subject,  in  so  far  as  it  is  spontaneous,  in  so  far  as  it  is  not 
fixed  by  the  organisation — as  in  fact  it  actually  is — 
has  only  a  quite  secondary  influence  on  the  subject's 
value. 

Hence  it  follows  that  the  value  lived  by  a  subject 
is  exclusively  its  own.  In  some  brutes  the  sexual 
relations  have  an  undeniable  character  of  affection. 
Even  less  rare  is  the  affection  towards  their  young, 
especially  on  the  part  of  the  mothers,  which  are  some- 
times induced  to  make  wonderful  sacrifices — sacrifices 
evidently  intentional.  Certain  brutes  live  in  a  society. 
The  dog,  horse,  &c.,  have  affection  for  man.  The  writer 
remembers  having  observed  in  his  childhood  a  curious 
case  of  jealousy  of  a  cat  towards  a  bird  of  which  much 
notice  was  taken.  A  brute  can  feel  affection  also  for 
brutes  of  a  different  species.  Birds  have  taste,  they 


154  The  Great  Problems 

learn  to  imitate  tunes,  and  rival  one  another  in  song 
even  when  there  are  no  females  to  attract. 

Facts  are  facts,  but  they  need  interpretation.  I  go  to 
look  over  a  suite  of  rooms.  They  are  well  situated,  have 
a  good  aspect,  and  are  conveniently  arranged,  elegant, 
and  fit  for  a  gentleman.  My  furniture  would  look  well 
in  them,  and  I  am  greatly  pleased  with  them.  I  rent 
them.  Have  I  recognised  in  them  a  value  distinct  from 
my  own?  Certainly  not.  I  have  simply  recognised 
that  certain  things  have  a  value  in  relation  to  me,  and 
are  a  convenient  means  towa.rds  the  attainment  of 
certain  ends  of  mine.  We  write  a  0  at  the  right  hand 
of  a  1,  and  we  shall  have  10,  not  that  0  has  an 
(arithmetic)  value,  but  1  having  an  intrinsic  value  of  its 
own,  its  value  can  be  increased  by  its  relation  to  a  0. 
The  suite  of  rooms,  as  far  as  intrinsic  value  is  concerned, 
is  a  zero,  which,  put  in  relation  to  my  intrinsic  value, 
real  in  itself,  increases  it.  The  valuations  which  we 
make  of  things  are  all  of  this  kind,  because  nothing  has 
an  intrinsic  value.  Things  only  have  value  in  relation 
to  subjects.  In  other  words,  they  have  an  aptitude  for 
modifying  a  value  which  already  exists — the  value  of  a 
subject ;  subjects  also  have  this  aptitude,  though  each  of 
them  has,  in  distinction  from  things,  a  value  of  its  own. 
Arid  to  recognise  such  an  aptitude  in  a  subject  and 
to  assign  it  a  value — however  great,  even  unique — in 
relation  is  not  to  recognise  or  even  be  aware  of  its 
intrinsic  value.  Many  love  their  friends,  their  wives, 
their  children,  God  (from  whom  they  expect  Paradise), 
themselves,  because  in  their  life  they  see  no  other 
good  than  a  hoped  for  succession  of  pleasures — precisely, 
in  this  way,  self-centred,  rather  than  selfish.  The 
selfish  man  is  conscious.  He  deliberately  sacrifices 
the  other  subject  to  himself.  The  self-centred  is  not 
conscious,  he  fancies  that  he  recognises  the  value  of  the 


Values  1 55 

other  subject,  because  he  recognises  its  value  in  relation 
to  himself.  His  error  consists  in  not  recognising  in 
himself  any  other  value  beyond  that  lived  in  the  im- 
mediacy of  feeling.  Self-centredness  is  reconcilable 
with  the  apparently  most  generous  self-sacrifice.  Sup- 
posing your  son  is  the  dearest  thing  you  have,  it  is 
natural  for  you  to  sacrifice  yourself  for  him — for  the 
same  motive,  in  the  end,  by  which  the  miser  is  induced 
to  sacrifice  himself  for  his  hoard. 

There  is  no  reason  to  suppose  that  the  animals  pass 
a  point  which  many  men — the  majority  perhaps — seem 
incapable  of  reaching.  If  there  were  no  subjects  except 
animals,  there  would  then  be  no  other  values  than  those 
of  simple  subjects — a  number  of  values,  each  self-enclosed, 
incommunicable.  The  whole  would  be  valueless  except 
for  the  subjects  included  in  it.  As  a  whole,  it  would  have 
no  value  at  all. 


IX 

Man  is  also  a  subject,  an  animal,  but  he  is  a  subject 
who  has  cognitions,  and  therefore  distinct  from  the  other 

animals.     The  elements  which  are  or  can  be 

.  .  .  PI      Tlie  Pers°n- 

included  in  the  unity  ol  consciousness  or  a  sub- 
ject have  characteristics  in  which  they  differ,  and  others 
in  which  they  resemble  each  other.  Certain  elements — 
the  sense-perceivables — can  be  common  to  every  subject. 
Certain  others  are  peculiar  to  a  particular  subject.  Both 
alike  can  be  divided  into  a  great  number  of  classes  and 
sub-classes  according  to  their  resemblances  and  differ- 
ences. There  are  bodies,  all  distributed  in  space,  and 
among  them  also  the  subject's  own  body.  They  differ  in 
position,  shape,  size,  and  qualities  of  every  kind.  There 
are  recollections,  representations,  expectations,  desires, 
tendencies,  instincts,  feelings,  and  actions  belonging  to  the 


156  The  Great  Problems 

subjects.  These  elements  are  arranged  correlatively  with 
their  characteristics.  The  sense-perceivables  perceived 
form  groups  with  which  recollections,  &c.,  are  associated 
(certain  recollections  with  certain  sense-percepts).  The 
groups  of  all  elements  whatsoever  are  arranged  in  their 
turn  in  higher  groups.  And  the  elements  or  the  groups 
vary,  all  of  them,  more  or  less  slowly,  in  time,  according 
to  certain  laws. 

Consciousness,  with  all  that  can  reach  consciousness, 
constitutes  an  organism  of  extreme  complexity,  bound 
together  in  itself — not,  as  it  seems,  a  rigorously  deter- 
minate mechanism.  At  least  the  spontaneity  of  each 
subject  seems  to  escape  precise  determination,  but  it  is 
developed  in  a  field  governed  by  law.  There  are  laws 
which  have  value  for  it  also,  although  they  leave  it 
unbound  internally  in  its  own  limited  sphere.  The 
organisation  of  consciousness  and  of  all  that  can  reach 
consciousness  permits  the  animal  to  find  its  true  place  both 
without  and  within  itself — to  develop  its  spontaneity 
without  too  violent  contrasts  with  other  energies,  to 
realise  its  value  and  to  increase  it  to  a  certain  degree,  to 
live  in  the  world  and  apparently  to  be  fairly  comfortable 
there  on  the  whole. 

The  animal  is  organised  and  lives  in  a  world  also 
organised — not  organised  in  the  same  way,  but  still 
arranged,  systematised.  Man  has  moreover  conscious- 
ness of  the  organisation,  both  his  own  and  that  of  things. 
Not  that  he  has  full,  clear,  and  distinct  consciousness  of 
it,  but  he  is  on  the  road  to  obtain  it,  though  we  admit 
that  it  is  a  road  without  an  ending.  His  consciousness 
is  not  of  concrete  objects  alone.  It  fixes  characteristics 
distinctly,  it  formulates  laws.  Resemblances,  differences, 
space,  time,  number,  causal  connection,  are  the  essential 
elements  with  which  all  the  laws  of  happening  can  be 
formulated.  The  consciousness  of  man  is  in  possession 


Values  1 57 

of  these  elements  and  of  the  aptitude  for  affirming. 
Besides  living  reality,  man  is  capable  of  knowing  truth. 
He  can  say  something  of  external  facts  and  of  those 
peculiar  to  himself. 

In  so  far  as  he  knows,  man  is  not  only  a  unity  of 
consciousness.  He  has  distinct  consciousness  of  this 
unity,  which  is  therefore  a  law.  In  the  cognition  of 
any  fact,  no  matter  how  small — in  the  judgments,  for 
instance,  "  This8  is  green,"  "I  am  tired" — self-conscious- 
ness is  included.  Included  does  not  mean  only  poten- 
tial. A  judgment  implies  the  reality,  though  not 
necessarily  the  formulation,  of  self-consciousness.  Judg- 
ment is  not  possible  unless  the  subject  which  judges 
confronts  the  thing  on  which  the  judgment  is  pro- 
nounced. The  concept,  essential  to  judgment,  is  not  a 
concrete  object,  and  cannot  be  in  consciousness  as  a 
concrete  object.  It  is  in  consciousness  only  in  so  far  as 
the  subject  is  rendered  conscious  of  its  own  unifying 
function  or  of  itself.  In  the  statement  "A  is  B"  is 
implied  "  I  affirm  that  ..." 

The  subject  cannot  exercise  activity  in  that  form  by 
which  cognition  is  constituted  without  becoming  self- 
conscious,  without  being  transformed  from  a  simple  sub- 
ject into  an  "7." 

X 

Self-consciousness,    although    founded    on    cognition 
(which  in  its  turn  is  founded  on  self-consciousness)  and 
expressed  in  a  judgment  "  1  exist,"  is  not  a   Formation  of 
simple  form  of  theoretic  consciousness.     Nor   thePerson- 
yet  is  cognition,  even  the  most  abstract  and  the  furthest 

J  O  ' 

removed  from  a  utilitarian  application,  a  simple  fact  of 
theoretic  consciousness,  a  content,  as  a  sense-percept 
or  recollection  would  be.  The  asserting  is  in  every  case 
in  acting.  But  we  must  distinguish.  When  we  make  a 


158  The  Great  Problems 

judgment  about  something  other  than  ourselves,  or 
when  the  "  J"  although  presupposed  by  the  judgment 
(there  cannot  be  a  judgment  without  a  judge)  does  not 
enter  into  the  matter  of  the  judgment,  that  action, 
which  is  the  judging,  can  be  reduced  to  a  conscious 
reconstruction  of  the  thing  about  which  we  make  the 
judgment.  The  laws  to  which  the  thing  (which  is 
never  an  absolutely  simple  "something")  owes  its 
internal  organisation,  its  being,  are  implicitly  in  my 
consciousness,  since  the  thing  is  in  my  consciousness.  I 
render  them  explicit ;  I  render  explicit  the  organisa- 
tion of  the  thing,  or  I  know  the  thing,  in  so  far  as  by 
reconstructing  it  I  manifest  my  own  activity,  conforming 
it,  bending  it,  to  the  constituent  laws  of  the  thing. 
My  action  in  these  cases  is  a  remaking. 

On  the  other  hand,  when  I  myself  am  that  about 
which  I  make  the  judgment,  my  action  is  no  longer 
simply  reconstructive ;  it  is  truly  constructive.  The 
"  7,"  in  the  true  sense  of  the  word,  or  the  unity  of  the 
self-consciousness — very  different  from  the  pure  unity 
of  consciousness  or  from  the  animal  subject — only  exists 
in  so  far  as  it  asserts  itself.  The  "7"  only  exists  in  so 
far  as  it  has  consciousness  of  itself.  Whether  I  say  it 
or  not,  whether  I  know  it  or  not,  this  is  always  an 
orange,  the  orange  is  always  a  fruit,  &c.  Sense-perceiv- 
ables  exist  and  are  governed  by  the  same  laws,  even  if 
this  particular  person  or  that  particular  subject  does 
not  exist,  l^ut  that  particular  subject  does  not  exist 
if  certain  sense-perceivables  are  not  included  in  a  cer- 
tain unity  of  consciousness  ;  and  this  particular  person, 
this  "  /,"  does  not  exist  unless,  besides  the  unity  of  con- 
sciousness, there  is  the  unity  of  self-consciousness,  unless 
the  consciousness  asserts  itself.  This  asserting,  un- 

O' 

like  every  other,  is  therefore  a  positing,  an  extending. 
On  the  conditions  of  a  particular  "/"  being  formed, 


Values  1 59 

we  cannot  and  must  not  speak  at  length.  As  far  as  we 
know,  a  subject  always  precedes  the  "/,"  and  in  its 
consciousness  the  "I"  is  formed  and  remains  bound  up 
with  it.  The  "I"  is  formed  simultaneously  with 
cognition,  and  the  subject  reaches  it  under  the  pressure 
of  practical  requirements,  to  which  cognition  serves  as 
a  means.  It  is  aided  by  the  example  and  suggestion  of 
persons  already  formed  with  whom  it  lives  (language 
exercises  one  of  the  strongest  influences  in  this  respect). 
It  reaches  it,  if  we  need  say  so,  because  it  is  disposed  to 
it,  because  it  has  in  itself  the  possibility  of  reaching  it. 
Without  this  practical  pressure,  example  or  suggestion 
would  be  of  no  use.  The  man  is  implicit  in  the  child. 
We  must  leave  undiscussed  the  question  whether  there 
is  in  every  subject  an  implicit  "  /"  which  does  not 
succeed  in  making  itself  explicit — as  in  the  case  of 
animals  which  remain  subjects  always  and  never  become 
persons — solely  because  they  lack  the  external  aids 
and  the  possibility  of  profiting  by  them,  and  especially 
because  they  lack  the  organs  of  articulate  speech. 

The  " /,"  we  said,  only  exists  in  so  far  as  it  asserts 
or  posits  itself.  It  does  not  follow  from  this  that,  if 
the  assertion  is  suspended  or  interrupted,  the  subject 
falls  back  therefore  into  the  condition  of  a  simple  subject. 
In  a  subject  the  formation  of  an  "  /"  signifies  that  the 
subject's  unity  of  consciousness  has  been  reorganised  in 
a  new  way.  And  the  organisation  of  consciousness 
always  reacts  and  in  some  manner  preserves  itself  in 
an  analogous  organisation  of  unconsciousness.  I  not 
only  possess  my  present  experience,  but  also  the  past 
which  I  can  recollect.  Not  only  this,  but  that  large 
part  of  past  experience  which  I  shall  never  recollect  is 
not  wholly  lost,  perhaps  is  not  lost  at  all.  It  does  not 
reach  consciousness  directly,  but  it  makes  itself  of  value 
by  its  action  on  unconsciousness,  and  hence  on  the 


160  The  Great  Problems 

relations  between  this  and  consciousness.  Thus  of  all 
the  cognitions  which  I  have  formed  there  remains  a 
trace  by  no  means  inefficacious,  though  not  perceived. 

The  man  is  not  always  present  in  himself,  nor  always 
so  in  the  same  way.  The  "  /"  persists,  however,  in 
spite  of  its  variations  and  intermittences.  It  persists 
as  experience,  as  cognition,  by  means  of  the  profound 
modification  which  it  has  produced  through  conscious- 
ness in  unconsciousness,  and  which  from  the  latter 
reacts  on  the  former.  We  do  not  insist ;  everyone 
understands  that  the  matter  is  so.  To  explain  minutely 
how  it  is  so  would  require  a  long  discussion  extraneous 
to  our  purpose.  But  though  we  have  to  content  our- 
selves with  indicating  this,  it  must  not  be  forgotten. 


XI 

Self-consciousness  and  cognition,  inseparably  associ- 
ated, each  in  turn  rendering  the  other  possible,  trans- 
Transfor-  form  the  activity  and  the  feeling.  They 
^ueiTdue  impose  the  activity  and  the  feeling  character- 
to  cognition.  istic  of  the  «/»  on  the  activity  and  the 

feeling  of  the  simple  subject.  In  a  law  which  he  has 
formulated  with  precision,  the  "/"  possesses  a  rule 
of  conduct  much  more  secure  and  more  widely  applicable 
than  the  expectation  of  the  simple  subject.  The  ex- 
pectation depends  entirely  on  custom,  on  the  circum- 
stances in  which  a  subject  has  lived.  It  loses  all  its 
utility  and  becomes  harmful  when  the  subject  suddenly 
finds  himself  in  different  circumstances.  An  animal 
which  has  learned  to  defend  itself  against  its  usual 
enemies  is  helpless  if  a  new  enemy  arrives,  &c.  We, 
by  means  of  some  universal  cognitions  and  certain 
others  which  are  a  common  inheritance,  can  rapidly 
find  our  level  in  the  newest  and  most  difficult  cir- 


Values  161 

cumstances.  We  succeed  without  much  effort  in  dis- 
covering the  arrangement  of  the  facts  we  observe,  even 
if  it  is  not  customary  to  us. 

Man  not  only  lives  his  feelings ;  he  clearly  distin- 
guishes their  characteristics  and  relations.  He  compares 
them,  referring  them  to  one  another,  and  distributing 
them  according  to  a  scale  of  values.  All  this  is  quite 
different  from  a  simple  inert  mirroring.  Certainly  if 
someone  says,  for  instance,  "  My  head  aches,"  his  head 
does  not  ache  more  or  less  because  he  has  pronounced 
the  judgment.  But  cognitions  must  be  considered  not 
one  by  one  but  in  their  entirety  in  connection  with 
the  entirety  of  the  other  psychical  facts.  So-and-so 
has  a  headache  to-day  because  yesterday  he  ate  some- 
thing he  liked.  The  known  association  of  a  pleasure 
with  a  pain  suffices  to  diminish  the  positive  value  of 
the  first,  or  even  to  make  it  negative.  (By  similar 
associations  a  food  may  be  rendered  distasteful.)  Facts 
of  this  kind  do  not  absolutely  require  cognition — (some 
nurses  wean  children  by  rubbing  their  breasts  with 
wormwood)  —  but  cognition  multiplies  and  intensifies 
them. 

I  miss  something  at  the  moment  when  I  want  it. 
It  is  an  inconvenience  which  displeases  me.  But  if  a 
value-judgment  makes  me  recognise  the  unimportance 
of  the  inconvenience,  my  displeasure  vanishes.  Some 
people,  it  is  true,  are  irritated  by  every  little  difficulty, 
and  we  call  them  unreasonable.  Would  it  not  be  more 
just  to  recognise  in  them  a  greater  delicacy  of  feeling  ? 
No ;  in  them  the  feeling  is  excessive  because  it  is 
not  connected  with  cognition,  or  only  very  faintly. 
Suppose  the  value-judgment  makes  us  recognise  the 
inconvenience  as  serious.  The  displeasure  becomes 
incomparably  greater  than  if  there  had  been  no  judg- 
ment. A  shopkeeper,  opening  his  till,  finds  no  money 

L 


1 62  The  Great  Problems 

in  it.  Never  mind ;  there  is  nothing  to  be  paid  out 
at  this  moment.  More  than  once  I  have  been  out 
without  a  penny  in  my  pocket,  and  have  not  minded 
at  all.  But  to-morrow  a  bill  falls  due.  .  .  .  The  dis- 
pleasure is  increased  a  hundredfold  if  we  are  forced 
to  recognise  the  cause  of  the  inconvenience  in  our- 
selves, in  a  mistaken  value-judgment  of  our  own.  Then 
we  are  vexed  with  ourselves,  we  disapprove  of  and 
condemn  ourselves.  We  pronounce  a  judgment  which 
determines  one  of  the  most  painful  feelings. 

It  is  clear  in  the  "  /"  even  feeling  is  under  the 
influence  of  cognition.  The  feelings  of  the  "/"  which 
knows  differ  from  those  of  the  subject  which  does 
not  know.  Cognition  modifies  the  feelings  peculiar  to 
the  subject,  and  even  the  immediate  physiological 
pleasures  and  pains.  More,  it  becomes  itself  the  root 
of  other  feelings.  There  are  feelings  which,  to  exist, 
must  be  known  —  valued.  But  they  cannot  for  all 
that  be  reduced  to  pure  cognition.  A  judgment  can 
create  a  feeling,  but  only  because  it  re-elaborates  a 
material  which  is  already  feeling.  If  we  make  abs- 
traction from  every  feeling,  we  have  no  longer  real 
cognition,  but  an  abstraction,  cognition  considered  as 
a  content  of  theoretic  consciousness,  and  therefore  de- 
void of  value. 

In  order  to  experience  remorse,  a  man  must  know 
that  he  has  committed  a  fault.  But  the  remorse  is  not 
the  knowledge.  A  man  whose  consciousness  was  only 
knowledge  would  have  neither  remorse  nor  the  concept 
of  fault.  Remorse  and  knowledge  are  two  inseparable 
characteristics  of  one  and  the  same  fact.  To  reduce 
remorse  to  knowledge,  or  to  believe  it  possible  without 
knowledge,  are  two  verbally  different  forms  of  one  and 
the  same  error. 


Values  163 


XII 

The  animal  lives  its  feelings  as  values  even  if  it  does 
not  value  them.  It  wants  and  makes  what  efforts  it  can 

to   be   comfortable.      But   the   value  of  the 

...  ill      "^k®  Pers°n 

animal  as  a  unity,  its   being   on   the   whole    andtheani- 

TTin.1   asso 

comfortable  or  the  contrary,  can  be  reduced  dated  in  one 
to  the  resultant  of  the  simple  feelings,  deter-  unity  of  con- 
mined  by  the  intensity  and  quality  of  the 
same  feelings,  and  by  the  relations  of  these  with  one 
another  and  with  the  other  psychical  facts.  Therefore 
the  animal,  although  the  feeling  constituted  by  the 
mode  in  which  its  activity  is  developed  is  not  extraneous 
to  it,  finds  itself  as  regards  its  being  comfortable  or 
otherwise  at  the  mercy  of  the  feelings  it  experiences,  as 
it  actually  experiences  them.  It  reacts  (to  a  limited 
extent  only  as  it  lacks  the  aid  of  cognition),  but  against 
the  causes  of  the  feeling,  not  really  against  the  feeling. 
Does  it  suffer  ?  If  it  cannot  remove  the  cause  of  the 
pain,  it  must  abandon  itself  to  the  pain.  Does  it  enjoy  ? 
It  plunges  into  a  pleasure  without  any  preoccupations 
at  all — its  soul  is  nothing  but  that  pleasure. 

And  we  ?  We  behave  too  often  like  the  brutes.  In 
the  man,  by  the  side  of  the  "  /,"  there  is  always  the 
animal,  which  often  obtains  the  mastery.  It  is  easy  to 
see  how.  While  the  simple  unity  of  consciousness  exists 
without  its  being  necessary  to  do  anything  to  make  it 
exist,  self-consciousness  is  the  result  of  an  action  and 
consists  in  an  action.  The  subject  (which  is  not  yet  an 
"  /"  but  may  become  one)  performs  this  action,  though 
always  in  response  to  something  in  it  that  excites  it,  and 
supplies  it  with  the  means.  And  the  "  /,"  once  formed, 
must  incessantly  renew  the  same  action  to  maintain 
itself. 


164  The  Great  Problems. 

Action  requires  an  effort  which  is  always  more  or 
less  toilsome  and  never  entirely  complete.  The  "  /" 
always  finds  by  its  side  the  animal,  never  entirely 
subdued.  In  the  unity  of  consciousness  the  field  of  the 
"  /"  is  more  or  less  extended,  more  or  less  strongly 
occupied,  according  to  the  intensity  of  the  effort,  and 
the  actual  conditions  of  the  one  consciousness.  In 
certain  rare  moments  consciousness  is  wholly  or  nearly 
absorbed  in  self-consciousness  ;  in  certain  others,  judging 
from  our  recollections,  we  might  say  that  "  We"  were 
absent,  and  that  the  consciousness  was  wholly  animal. 
It  is  not  easy  to  distinguish  accurately  the  parts  of  the 
"  /"  and  of  the  animal,  of  consciousness  and  of  self- 
consciousness. 

The  effort  which  the  "  /"  must  perform  to  make 
itself  of  value,  to  predominate  over  the  animal,  is 
rendered  difficult  by  the  intensity  and  the  strong 
organisation  of  the  animal  feelings.  My  actual  feeling 
is  what  it  is.  Cognition  may  modify  it,  as  we  have  said, 
but,  as  we  have  also  said,  the  influence  of  the  simple 
cognition  on  the  simple  feeling  is  very  slight.  My 
knowledge  that  it  is  good  for  me  to  undergo  a  surgical 
operation  does  not  prevent  my  suffering  horribly.  To 
obtain  any  result,  we  must  oppose  to  the  strong 
psychical  organisation  of  the  animal  a  still  stronger 
organisation  of  the  rational  "  /."  But  the  organisation 
of  the  "  /"  can  be  improvised  when  we  feel  the  need  of 
it,  and  few  care  to  prepare  it  beforehand,  when  it  is  not 
needed.  With  what  intent,  for  what  end,  do  those  prepare 
it  beforehand  who  do  so?  Man,  one  might  say,  cannot 
make  a  better  use  of  self-consciousness  or  comrition  than 

o 

to  use  it  for  the  advantage  of  the  animal  in  him.  To  avoid 
suffering  and  to  enjoy  :  this  is  what  the  animal  desires. 
It  desires  it  in  a  confused  way  and  to  a  limited  extent. 
As  it  lacks  cognition,  the  animal  cannot  transform  its 


Values  165 

desire  into  a  clear  and  fixed  purpose.  It  cannot  hold  on 
to  an  end  which  requires  complicated  means  if  both 
means  and  end  are  not  suggested  to  it  by  instinct. 
Hence  it  accepts,  one  might  almost  say  with  resignation, 
the  fate  to  which  nature  has  destined  it,  without  trying 
to  improve  it  radically,  without  representing  to  itself  the 
possibility  of  a  radical  improvement.  Birds  are  contented 
with  their  nests ;  they  do  not  desire  more  sheltered 
homes,  nor  would  they  know  how  to  make  them. 

Man  also,  like  the  animal,  desires  to  avoid  suffering 
and  to  enjoy.  But  the  object  of  his  desire  is  conceived 
by  him  as  an  end  the  means  towards  which  can  be  pre- 
arranged and  duly  put  in  operation.  Once  started  on 
this  road,  the  man  does  not  stop.  Stopping  would  mean 
accepting  sufferings  which  he  could  avoid,  or  renouncing 
pleasures  which  he  could  obtain.  The  same  intelligence 
which  allows  him  to  construct  his  first  rough  cabin 
suggests  how  to  improve  it,  and  causes  the  need  for 
doing  so  to  arise.  Needs  increase,  desires  are  multiplied 
and  refined  by  the  very  fact  that  they  can  be  satisfied  by 
an  intentional  action.  What  was  at  first  an  end  becomes 
a  means  to  the  attainment  of  ulterior  ends.  On  the 
other  hand  by  a  movement  which  seems  in  the  contrary 
direction,  but  is  not  so — like  the  eddies  and  whirlpools  in 
a  river  which  are  a  consequence  of  its  downward  flow— 
what  were  formerly  simple  means  become  in  a  certain 
sense  and  to  a  certain  extent  so  many  ends.  The  life  of 
the  individual  and  that  of  societies  becomes  increasingly 
complicated  to  an  indefinite  extent. 

We  know  the  result — I  mean  the  result  so  far 
attained,  which  is  certainly  not  the  final  result.  It  is  our 
modern  civilisation,  of  which  we  are  so  proud.  And  not 
without  reason,  in  my  opinion.  It  remains  to  be  known 
if  the  true  reason  is  that  which  most  people  imagine. 
We  live  more  at  our  ease,  with  incomparably  greater 


1 66  The  Great  Problems 

refinement  than  our  grandfathers  and  even  than  our 
fathers,  much  more  so  than  savages.  Is  this  our  superi- 
ority? Could  intelligence  have  served,  could  it  serve 
for  nothing  else  than  to  allow  us  to  organise  around  us, 
artificially,  that  part  of  nature  which  touches  us  most 
nearly,  to  make  of  it  a  species  of  gigantic  nest  ? 

In  fact  what  else  could  we  ever  do  or  try  to  do  ? 
Many  can  form  no  idea  nor  even  understand  how  the 
idea  of  anything  else  could  be  formed.  Among  these 
some  will  be  found  who  will  wish  to  justify  this  belief, 
and  will  succeed  by  showing  that  to  propose  to  ourselves 
any  other  end  than  that  of  making  ourselves  comfortable 
in  nature  is  to  hunt  chimseras. 


XIII 

But  man  ought  to  persuade  himself  (he  has  done  so 
for  some  time)  that  the  attainment  of  animal  happiness 
The  values  of  is  not  possible  for  him.  Animals  may  be 

the  person  and  * 

of  the  animal,  happy  after  their  manner.  I  do  not  know 
above.  this,  but  I  am  inclined  to  believe  it.  They 

live  from  day  to  day  with  no  care  for  the  future.  They 
give  themselves  up  to  nature,  without  trying  to  dominate 
it,  and  to  instinct.  They  have  limited  desires.  Their 
soul,  as  it  would  appear,  is  in  a  drowsy  harmony,  undis- 
turbed by  serious  or  lasting  discords. 

But  man  cannot  be  happy  like  an  animal,  because  he 
cannot  reduce  himself  to  being  an  animal  and  nothing 
more.  The  "  /"  which  is  associated  with  the  animal  in 
him  does  not  allow  itself  to  be  subordinated  to  it.  If  it 
does  not  dominate  it,  it  torments  it.  It  creates  for  it  a 
number  of  wants  which  might  be  called  fictitious  if  the 
leaving  them  unsatisfied  did  not  cause  serious  pain.  It 
suggests  to  it  desires  and  fears  without  end.  It  imposes 
on  it  rough  labour  which  cannot  be  interrupted  without 


Values  167 

boredom  supervening.  Man  cannot  be  contented  with 
the  present  because  his  life  cannot  be  divided  into  loosely 
connected  intervals.  He  conceives  himself  as  a  unity  which 
persists  amid  the  variety  of  happenings.  He  looks  for- 
ward to  the  future,  and  wishes  to  make  provision  for  it. 

A  secondary  end  which  the  "/"  may  propose  to 
itself  in  the  service  of  the  body  is  perhaps  attainable,  the 
ultimate  end  not.  A  man  wishes  to  grow  rich.  Provided 
he  really  wishes  it,  and  knows  how,  he  will  succeed  if 
fortune  helps  him.  But  what  then?  To  have  riches 
twenty  years  hence,  that  man  now  opposes  himself.  He 
conquers  his  indolence,  bridles  his  intemperance,  and  eats 
the  bread  of  affliction.  Twenty  years  hence  ?  Twenty 
years  hence  he  will  have  to  do  the  same,  or  else  the 
riches  he  has  won  will  become  for  him  a  source  of  evils 
worse  than  actual  poverty.  Either  therefore.  .  .  .  ? 

Let  us  leave  this.  In  any  case,  for  his  desire  to  be 
realised,  the  man  must  realise  it.  At  every  moment  he 
must  do  what  is  done.  Therefore  he  needs  a  number  of 
cognitions,  and  above  all  a  prompt  and  certain  intuition. 
To  fix  for  myself,  once  and  for  ever,  a  design,  precise  in 
every  particular,  cannot  be  thought  of.  Circumstances 
cannot  be  foreseen.  Nothing  but  the  end  can  be  fixed. 
The  means  must  be  chosen  or  created,  as  need  arises, 
with  sagacious  resolution.  We  must  be  capable  of  over- 
coming an  obstacle,  of  profiting  by  an  opportunity  which 
may  suddenly  meet  us.  We  must  therefore  connect 
together  the  activity  and  the  intelligence,  as  a  fencing 
master  unites  theory  and  practice  so  that  he  perceives  what 
is  necessary  and  executes  it  to  meet  any  kind  of  attack. 

But  this  cannot  be  unless  I  possess  and  dominate 
my  feelings  also.  In  overcoming  obstacles  I  suffer  and 
am  weary.  My  body  is  hurt  by  things,  my  spirit  by 
men.  If  I  am  afraid  of  these  evils,  if  I  have  not  the 
courage  to  face  and  disregard  them,  I  shall  accomplish 


1 68  The  Great  Problems 

nothing.  The  same  may  be  said  of  the  evils  which 
come  upon  me  from  every  struggle.  And  I  must  not 
only  master  pain,  but  pleasure  also.  This  is  a  more 
difficult  victory,  but  a  more  important  one.  While  I 
tranquilly  taste  the  sweetness  of  repose,  my  rival 
passes  me,  and  time,  opportunities,  strength,  life,  flee 
away.  It  is  an  old  proverb  "  Qui  studuit  optatam  .  .  ." 
To  dominate,  to  bind  in  one  bundle,  to  make  firm, 
to  unite  together,  the  intelligence,  activity,  and  feeling — 
what  does  it  mean  ?  It  means  that  the  man  has 
become  conscious  of  himself,  has  become  a  person.  The 
person,  as  such,  possesses  a  value  of  his  own.  This  is 
not  the  resultant  of  the  simple  feelings  as  it  is  for  the 
subject  (for  the  consciousness  that  is  simply  one  and  has 
not  reached  self-consciousness).  It  is  constituted  and 
created  by  the  subordination  of  the  simple  feelings  and 
their  resultant  to  that  higher  unity  which  is  the  person. 
In  conquering  myself,  that  is,  in  imposing  on  the  animal 
which  is  within  me  an  "  /"  which  dominates  it,  in  being 
master  of  my  animal  feelings,  that  is,  in  hindering  their 
violence  from  disturbing  the  equilibrium  of  my  conscious 
life,  I  accomplish  an  act  with  which  a  feeling  sui  generis 
is  associated  as  an  essential  element — the  feeling  which 
the  "/"  has  of  its  own  value.  This  feeling  is  not  a 
distinct  particular  like  the  smell  of  a  rose  or  a  headache, 
but  a  form  of  the  consciousness  which  the  "7"  has  of 
itself. 

XIV 

To  man  his  "  Self"  cannot  but  be  of  supreme  import- 
ance.    But  this  ">SV//'"  of  so  much  importance  to  him— 
which  cannot  but  be  of  supreme  importance  to 

Cognition  as          .  7  ,  . 

constitutive     him  if  he  has  developed  himself  in  conformity 

with  his  nature,  if  he  has  attained  to  complete 

consciousness  of  himself,  and  which  on  that  very  account 


Values  169 

ought  to  be  of  supreme  importance  to  him — is  the  "  /," 
and  not  the  animal  associated  with  the  "  /." 

Theoretic  consciousness,  activity,  and  feeling  are 
elements  of  every  subject.  These  (we  repeat  it  for  the 
hundredth  time)  are  not  three  things  like,  for  instance, 
three  distinct  sense-percepts,  or  a  sense-percept,  a 
recollection,  and  an  act,  which  are  together  in  the  unity 
of  the  subject,  but  one  of  them  can  exist  without  the 
other  two.  They  are  three  aspects  or  three  forms  of 
one  and  the  same  thing — three  absolutely  inseparable 
characteristics.  Cognition,  will,  and  the  feeling  which 
the  "  /"  has  of  itself— the  consciousness  of  its  own 
value 1 — are  correlative  elements  of  the  "/."  Cognition, 
therefore,  is  an  essential  constituent  of  the  "/"  and  of 
its  value.  It  is  itself  a  value,  although  if  we  consider  it 
apart  from  self-consciousness,  it  appears  to  us  devoid  of 
intrinsic  value.  It  concerns  me  for  my  own  ends  to 
know  the  truth,  but  what  difference  does  it  make  to  me 
whether  the  truth  be  this  or  that?  But  it  is  true  that 
in  this  way  we  are  considering  not  cognition  but  an 
unreal  abstraction. 

In  so  far  as  it  serves  as  a  means  to  the  attainment  of 
other  ends,  cognition  has  no  intrinsic  value.  But  cog- 
nition, besides  being  able  to  serve  as  a  means,  is  an  end 
in  itself.  If  I  wish  to  distinguish  the  universal  char- 
acteristics of  the  elements  of  which  I  have  consciousness, 
if  I  wish  to  formulate  the  laws  which  govern  them,  I 
must  make  an  effort.  The  effort  constitutes  a  positive 
or  negative  value,  according  as  it  succeeds  or  not. 
Success  is  the  possession  of  the  truth,  the  acquirement  of 

1  I  am  speaking  of  self-consciousness,  the  cognition  of  self,  which  is  insepar- 
able from  cognition  of  anything  else — seeing  that  anything  else  is  constituted 
by  elements  of  fact  which  the  "/"  discovers  in  itself  and  in  the  single  animal 
consciousness  associated  with  it  which  it  recognises  as  its  own,  and  yet  as 
distinct  from  itself  or  not  exclusively  its  own,  by  means  of  their  special  charac- 
teristics and  by  the  laws  which  connect  them. 


170  The  Great  Problems 

the  cognition.  Failure  means  ignorance  or  error.  To 
know  and  not  to  know,  or,  worse,  to  err,  are  a  good  and 
an  evil  respectively,  of  which  the  "  /"  alone  is  capable, 
but  notwithstanding  this,  or,  «  fortiori,  a  true  good  and 
a  true  evil.1 

The  "I"  exists  in  so  far  as  it  knows,  though,  on 
the  other  hand,  the  knowing  presupposes  the  "  /" — all 
the  "  /."  The  defect  of  cognition  is  a  defect  of  the  "  /," 
its  increase  is  an  increase  of  the  " /."  The  good  of  the 
"/"  can  therefore  be  reduced  to  cognition,  provided 
that  in  the  cognition  we  consider  the  real  successful 
effort.  The  bad  can  be  reduced  to  ignorance  and  error. 
Certainly  an  ignorant  man  may  be  an  honest  man,  and 
as  such  may  have  a  great  value,  but  the  honest  man,  to 
be  such,  must  know  in  what  honesty  consists.  There- 
fore, although  he  lacks  other  knowledge  (perhaps  more 
difficult  to  acquire  and  therefore  better  compensated),  he 
possesses  a  knowledge  of  primary  importance.2 

An  "  /"  cannot  be  separated  from  the  society  of  its 
fellows  or  from  the  world.  Therefore  it  cannot  acquire 
full  consciousness  of  its  own  value  and  cannot  realise  it 
unless  it  knows  its  relations  with  its  fellows  and  with 
the  world.  There  are  in  these  relations  a  number  of 
particulars  which  might  be  different  or  vary  without  the 
value  of  the  "  /"  being  substantially  changed.  The 
knowledge  of  these  particulars,  without  being  negligible 
(what  is  negligible?)  has  only  a  secondary  importance. 

1  We  ought  nitlior  to  say  thr  good  and  the  evil.      This  does  not  mean 
that  good  and  evil  c;in  be  reduced  to  moments  of  theoretic  consciousness,  as 
the   imperfection   of   language  and  rooted  habits   might  make  us  suppose. 
Cognition  in  the  abstract     that  abstract  which  is  pure  cognition —has  no 
more  value  than  a  .shape  has  weight.     The  body,  which  has  the  shape,  has 
the  weight. 

2  Certainly  a  man  can  fail  to  know  the  value  of  knowledge,  can  be  with- 
out regret  for  his  own  ignorance.     But  we  can  deduce  nothing  contrary  to 
the  value  of  cognition  from  these  facts  whose  explanation  lies  in  the  pre- 
dominance, accidental  or  habitual,  of  the  animal  over  the  "  /." 


Values  1  7  1 

The  essential  stands  in  the  structure  of  the  whole,  in  its 
supreme  law.  Let  us  reflect  on  the  radically  different 
conceptions  of  the  whole  which  are  given  us,  for  instance, 
by  Materialism  and  Christianity.  The  value  of  the  "  /" 
cannot  be  the  same,  cannot  fail  to  be  entirely  different, 
according  to  the  truth  of  one  or  the  other  conception  or 
of  a  third.  Nothing  else  is  needed  to  show  us  how 
important,  how  essential  to  the  "  /,"  it  is  to  attain  to  a 
true  conception  of  the  whole. 

XV 

To  arrive  at  this  has  been  in  all  times  the  most 
lively  aspiration  of  man.  In  fact,  men  who  were  really 
men  have  always  been  most  devoted  to 


T    •  T     i'  n»  •          i  •  1-1  pecu 

religion.     Indifference  in  this  respect,  which    iiartothe 
must   not   be   confounded   with    the  express 
rejection,   made  after  considered  reasoning,   of  this  or 
that    religion,   is   clear   evidence,   a    cause  and  a    con- 
sequence, of  the  decadence  of  the  "/,"  of  its  subjection 
to  the  animal. 

Religion  can  be  reduced  to  a  conception  of  the 
universe.  It  is,  by  its  content,  cognition  or  supposition, 
a  doctrine,  although  it  may  be  justified  otherwise  than 
other  doctrines  are  justified.  A  doctrine  :  this  does 
not  mean  a  collection  of  abstract  formulas,  inert  forma- 
tions of  theoretic  consciousness.  To  imagine  that  religion 
is  a  conception  of  the  universe  and  morality  (or  worse, 
that  morality  constitutes  an  accessory  to  it)  is  an  error. 
As  there  cannot  be  morality  outside  a  conception  of  the 
universe,  so  there  cannot  be  a  conception  of  the  universe 
outside  morality. 

I  feel  and  know  myself  capable  of  a  higher  value. 
Necessarily,  I  strive  towards  it  unless  I  consciously 
let  myself  be  dominated  by  the  animal  which  is  in  me. 


172  The  Great  Problems 

How  shall  I  strive  towards  it  so  as  to  be  sure  of  not 
unconsciously  letting  myself  be  dominated  by  the  animal 
within  me,  so  that  my  value  may  really  increase  ?  The 
answer  is  given  by  a  conception  (assuming  it  to  be  true) 
of  the  universe.  This  constitutes  under  one  aspect,  i.e. 
under  the  theoretic  aspect,  the  realisation  of  my  highest 
value.  When  I  know  what  the  world  is,  and  in  what 
relation  I  stand  to  the  world,  I  not  only  know  what 
I  ought  to  do,  but  I  have  done  it,  in  so  far  as  regards 
that  action  of  mine  which  is  the  acquisition  of  knowledge. 
But  to  discover  the  answer,  the  conception  must  be 
obtained  without  making  abstraction  from  the  values. 
A  conception  in  which  we  make  abstraction  from  the 
"  1 "  and  from  value  will  not  make  us  know  the 
value  of  the  "  I."  We  do  not  make  out  a  merchant's 
balance-sheet  by  registering  only  the  colours  of  the 
cloths  lie  possesses.  It  will  not  make  us  know  any- 
thing. A  true  conception  is  a  successful  operation  of 
the  "/."  It  is  itself  a  value. 

It  is  impossible  to  separate  cognition  from  the  activity 
of  the  "./."  So  also  it  is  impossible  to  separate  the 
activity  of  the  "/"  from  cognition.  I  only  know  in 
so  far  as  I  work,  but  I  only  work,  as  an  "  /,"  in  so 
far  as  I  know  how  to  act,  in  so  far  as  I  know  what 
I  am  doing.  The  activity,  clearly  conscious  of  itself, 
of  its  ends  and  means,  of  the  laws  to  which  it  must 
submit  to  make  itself  of  value,  to  manifest  itself  effec- 
tively, is  called  will.  It  is  essential  to  the  will,  there- 
fore, to  be  enlightened  by  cognition,  to  be  altogether 
one  with  cognition.  In  any  case,  considering  that  the 
subject  is  initially  spontaneity  and  is  transformed  into 
an  "/"  by  means  of  a  manifestation  of  activity  which 
must  be  incessantly  renewed,  we  must  recognise  in  the 
will  a  species  of  supremacy  and  primacy.  We  can 
say  that  the  "/"  exists  in  so  far  as  it  wills,  that  self- 


Values  1 73 

consciousness  is  consciousness  of  the  will,  and  that  the 
value  of  the  "/"  is  that  of  its  will.  In  fact,  when  we 
judge  ourselves  or  others  we  judge  the  will.  The  esti- 
mation of  the  will  is  the  real  and  decisive  estimation 
of  the  man. 

The  "  /,"  like  the  subject,  must  manifest  its  activity 
in  order  to  develop  it,  i.e.  it  must  make  itself  active 
in  the  world.  What  does  not  work  externally  does 
not  work  at  all  (it  does  not  follow  from  this  that 
working  only  concerns  the  outside).  Each  of  us  has 
a  hundred  things  to  do ;  he  has  to  maintain  his  family 
and  himself,  he  has  a  profession  to  attend  to,  &c.  And 
it  may  happen  that  we  do  not  succeed  in  attaining 
any  of  the  ends  we  have  proposed  to  ourselves.  Or, 
rather,  this  always  happens.  Who  of  us,  unless  very 
young,  has  not  lost  someone  dear  to  him  ?  How  many 
do  not  have  to  depart,  interrupting  for  ever  the  occu- 
pations to  which  they  owed  all  their  powers,  and  leaving, 
maybe,  children  for  whom  the  abandonment  may  perhaps 
be  ruin  ? 

Failure  to  attain  an  end  is  always  a  pain.  If  the 
end  was  of  supreme  importance,  the  pain  will  be  supreme. 
Good :  we  have  learned  to  conquer  pain.  However 
things  go,  nothing  can  take  from  us  the  satisfaction 
of  having  done  what  depended  on  us  to  make  them 
go  well.  We  experience  this  satisfaction  through  having 
known  how,  by  our  vigorous  and  intelligent  action,  to 
connect  firmly  in  one  whole,  one  however  varied,  the  ele- 
ments of  our  consciousness  and  unconsciousness.  It  is  the 
feeling  which  we  have  of  our  force,  of  our  independence 
of  every  external  force  for  what  properly  regards  us 
—the  feeling  which  we  have  of  ourselves,  our  value. 


174  The  Great  Problems 


XVI 

To  consider  the  doctrine  summarised  egoistic  would 

be  to  misunderstand  it  altogether.     Every  subject  enjoys 

and  suffers  ;  it  has  a  value.     But  the  subject, 

Relation  ' 

between  the     as  such,  does  not  know.     It  does  not  even 

value  of  one's  . 

own  person      know  its  own  value  ;  it  simply  lives  it.      I  he 

and  the  value  .  .  . 

of  the  person    value  oi    the  other  subject  remains   in  con- 

of  another.  ..  ,     .  P 

sequence  extraneous  to  it,  except  in  so  tar  as 
it  reacts  on  its  own  lived  value,  modifies  it,  and  becomes 
a  qualification,  an  element,  of  it.  An  animal  can  have 
sympathies  (in  the  etymological  sense  of  the  word), 
but  is  not  capable  of  a  truly  disinterested  affection. 
Although  not  selfish,  it  is  inevitably  self-centred  without 
knowing  it.  I  certainly  live  my  value  as  a  person  in 
the  incommunicable  actuality  of  a  feeling,  to  which 
its  being  known  is  essential  (as,  on  the  other  hand,  cog- 
nition must  be  the  cognition  of  a  feeling).  That  feeling, 
if  it  were  not  known,  would  be  my  value  as  a  subject, 
not  my  value  as  a  person.  If  cognition,  in  so  far  as 
it  is  cognition  of  a  feeling,  is  referred  to  me  alone, 
as  cognition  it  can  be  referred  also  to  another.  My 
consciousness  of  myself  has  two  faces,  one  exclusively 
subjective — feeling,  which  means  also  activity  ;  the  other 
indifferent  and  objective — cognition.  For  example,  I 
touch  my  forehead.  I  also  touch  the  forehead  of  the 
dear  invalid  who  is  watching  me  from  her  bed.  The 
touching  is  double  in  the  first  case,  single  in  the  second, 
but,  if  I  attend  only  to  what  my  hand  feels,  I  recognise 
no  essential  difference  between  the  two  cases. 

I  only  live  my  own  personality.  But  I  know  there 
are  others,  persons  equally  with  me,  and  therefore  en- 
dowed with  or  capable  of  a  value  equal  to  that  which 
I  am  capable  of  or  endowed  with.  To  recognise  their 


Values  1 75 

value — naturally  without  living  it — is  a  sine  qua  non 
of  my  being  able  to  recognise  and  hence  to  live  my 
own,  in  order  that  my  value  may  be  realised  and  exist. 
In  fact,  a  person  is  constituted  by  the  fact  that  certain 
elements  bound  up  in  the  unity  of  a  consciousness 
reconnect  themselves  according  to  a  certain  law  and 
subordinate  themselves  to  the  law.  For  consciousness 
of  the  person  or  of  his  value  to  exist — in  other  words, 
for  the  person  or  his  value  to  exist — is  impossible  unless 
there  be  consciousness,  i.e.  in  this  case  cognition  of 
the  law  (the  cognition  need  not  be  very  specific).  For 
a  consciousness  which  had  certain  characteristics  of  a 
law  not  included  in  that  consciousness  would  not  be 
consciousness  of  oneself. 

The  value  of  which  we  are  speaking  is  a  property, 
not  of  the  elements,  nor  of  the  one  consciousness  in  which 
they  were  first  grouped,  but  of  consciousness  itself  in  so 
far  as  it  has  transformed  itself  according  to  the  law. 
Therefore  it  is  not  possible  to  recognise  it  in  a  particular 
consciousness,  and  not  to  recognise  it  in  every  con- 
sciousness which  has  transformed  itself  according  to  the 
same  law.  To  say  that  certain  stones,  grouped  together 
here  according  to  a  law,  constitute  a  house,  is  to  say 
that  any  stones  whatever,  grouped  together  according 
to  the  same  law,  constitute  a  house. 

For  another  person's  value  to  be  unknown  to  me,  my 
value  must  be  only  lived  by  me,  and  not  known.  In 
this  case  I  should  only  be  a  subject  and  not  a  person. 
Knowing  the  value  of  another  person,  I  may,  however, 
not  respect  it — I  may  as  far  as  I  can,  violate,  diminish, 
and  destroy  it.  So  acting  I  may  perhaps  increase  my 
own  value  as  a  subject  ;  I  serve,  excellently  if  you  like, 
the  animal  within  me.  But  I  violate,  if  1  do  not 
absolutely  destroy,  my  value  as  a  person.  For  this 
value  consists  just  in  the  rigorous  unity  of  action 


176  The  Great  Problems 

(including  feeling)  and  cognition.  It  disappears,  or  at 
least  diminishes,  if,  by  the  predominance  of  the  subject 
over  the  "  /,"  the  action  frees  itself  from  the  laws  which 
cognition  lays  down  for  it. 


XVII 

Therefore  the  doctrine  summarised,  far  from  justifying 
selfishness  and  self-centredness,  excludes  them.  But,  on 
Distinction  the  other  hand,  the  values  which  it  has  led 
rS^SrSe  us  *°  recognise  are  those  of  subjects  and  per- 
persons.  sons,  and  in  every  case  of  individuals.  A 
value  which  is  common  qua  value  has  not  been  found. 
Undoubtedly  the  individuals  are  not  separated.  Things, 
subjects,  and  persons  have  mutual  relations  ;  they  con- 
stitute a  whole. 

In  particular,  a  sense-perceivable — the  same  numeri- 
cally— may  be  common  to  two  subjects,  to  two  persons. 
But  a  sense-perceivable  has  no  intrinsic  value  of  itself. 
It  has  value  for  a  subject  in  so  far  as  it  modifies  the 
value  which  intrinsically  belongs  to  the  subject.  Sup- 
press every  subject,  and  every  value  will  be  suppressed. 
Subjects,  then,  have  value  for  what  each  one  has  of  its 
own.  Value,  rather,  is  an  element,  peculiar,  and 
essentially  peculiar,  to  each  subject. 

Certain  laws  have  universal  validity.  But  the 
validity  of  the  law,  though  essential  to  the  value  of  the 
cognition,  is  not  a  value  for  itself  or  of  itself.  Cognition, 
if  it  were  not  cognition  of  a  law,  would  have  no  value 
(or  rather  would  not  exist) ;  its  value  is  for  the  person 
who  possesses  it ;  it  is  part  of  the  value  of  the  person. 
If  we  eliminate  this  person,  the  only  one  (suppose)  who 
has  the  cognition,  the  cognition  and  its  values  vanish. 

It  is  essential  to  a  person  to  recognise  and  respect 
the  value  of  every  other.  But  we  cannot  infer  from 


Values  177 

this  that  the  value  of  persons  is  numerically  one.  All 
the  persons,  qua  persons,  each  of  whom  is  supposed 
fully  developed,  have  values  equal  but  numerically 
distinct.  That  they  are  distinct,  though  equal,  results 
from  this,  that  each  person  both  knows  and  lives  his 
own  value,  while  he  only  knows  another's.  Hence  it 
follows  that  the  full  actualisation  of  personality  requires 
an  effort  which  must  be  made  by  everyone,  and  of  which 
everyone  has  separate  consciousness.  We,  or  many  of 
us,  have  an  inborn  disposition  to  make  the  self  central — 
a  disposition  towards  egoism  which  we  must  overcome 
if  we  wish  to  be  truly  We  (persons  in  the  strict  sense). 
The  simple  fact  of  such  a  disposition  proves  that 
another's  value  is  not  ours,  although  to  recognise  and 
respect  it  is  an  integral  part  of  ours. 

Some  say — "  Titius  is  a  person,  Caius  is  a  person,  &c. 
Therefore  Titius,  Caius,  &c.,  qua  persons,  are  all  one,  and 
the  distinction  between  them  depends  on  accidents 
which  have  nothing  to  do  with  the  person.  Titius, 
Caius,  &c.,  have  each  a  value  in  so  far  as  each  develops 
an  activity  ;  the  particular  way  in  which  he  develops 
it  does  not  matter,  provided  that  the  activity  be 
developed  according  to  a  certain  law.  Therefore  the 
activity  on  which  the  values  are  based  is  numerically 
only  one  in  Titius,  in  Caius,  &c." 

In  this  reasoning  there  is  certainly  an  important 
substratum  of  truth.  The  equal  presupposes  the  same. 
One  and  the  same  law  valid  for  several  different  things 
presupposes,  or  rather  is  per  se,  something  identical  in 
the  things.  Now  we  have  seen  that  one  and  the  same 
law  is  the  essential  constituent  of  every  person.  But 
it  is  easy  to  see  that  the  reasoning  needs  to  be  thoroughly 
examined  to  extract  the  good  that  is  implicit  in  it,  to 
understand  its  true  meaning. 

"  Titius's  headache  is  a  headache,  and  so  is  Caius's. 

M 


178  The  Great  Problems 

Then  the  headache  of  Titius  and  that  of  Caius  are  one 
and  the  same,  one  headache  only,  and  the  irreducible 
distinction  between  the  two  consciousnesses  of  Titius  and 
of  Caius  is  a  chimrera." 

I  do  not  assert  that  this  reasoning  has  the  same  value 
as  the  preceding.  I  note  that  they  both  have  the  same 
form.  Therefore,  since  the  second  is  evidently  not  con- 
clusive, the  conclusiveness  of  the  first  is  not  proved  by 
its  form.  We  must  examine  the  matter  more  accurately 
than  we  have  done  hitherto  (here  or  elsewhere). 

But  can  the  distinction  between  the  individual 
unities  of  consciousness  be  really  illusory  ?  The  distinc- 
tion, call  it  real  or  illusory,  exists  in  the  sense  that  it 
can  be  seen.  And  according  to  the  last  given  reasoning 
it  ought  not  to  be  seen. 

O 

Further,  the  distinction  between  the  values  and 
between  the  personal  activities  is  even  deeper  than  that 
between  animal  consciousnesses.  The  elevated  conscious- 
ness of  Titius  and  the  degraded  one  of  Caius  cannot  be 
more  distinct  than  those  of  the  cat  and  of  the  mouse 
which  it  eats  because  one  "two"  cannot  be  more  "ttvo" 
than  another.  But  the  difference  of  characteristics  be- 
tween the  consciousness  of  Titius  and  that  of  Caius  is 
more  closely  connected  with  the  distinction  between  the 
two  consciousnesses  than  the  difference  of  characteristics 
between  the  consciousness  of  the  cat  which  eats  and  that 
of  the  mouse  which  is  eaten.  To  deny  this  is  to  fail  to 
recognise  what  is  precisely  the  most  important  point, 
that  Titius  is  a  worthy  man  and  Caius  a  good-for- 
nothing.  If  anyone  fails  to  understand  this,  so  much 
the  worse  for  him. 


IF  a  judgment  is  true,  that  judgment  is  true.  Of  two 
contradictory  or  contrary  judgments  one  is  always  false. 
And  of  two  contradictory  judgments  one  is  F0rmaiiaws 
always  true.  These  principles  are  absolutely 
inviolable.  Not  that  thought  and  reasoning 
are  in  fact  always  conformed  to  them.  But  thought 
and  reasoning  which  are  not  conformed  to  them, 
although  they  may  be  real  as  psychical  facts,  are  devoid 
of  meaning  and  coherence.  Their  value  seems  only 
formal.  We  have  enunciated  three  necessarily  true 
judgments,  three  principles,  from  which,  however,  it 
would  be  impossible  to  infer  the  certain  knowledge  that 
any  other  judgment  is  true. 

If  the  judgment  A  is  true,  it  is  true.  But  is  it 
true  ?  Let  A  and  B  be  contradictory  judgments ;  one 
is  certainly  true,  the  other  certainly  false,  but  which  is 
true  and  which  false  ? 

In  conclusion,  these  principles  are  laws  of  my 
thought,  or  of  thinking  as  a  process  which  I  accom- 
plish. This  thinking  will  or  will  not  have  an  intrinsic 
coherence  according  as  it  does  or  does  not  conform  to 
these  laws.  But  the  intrinsic  coherence  does  not  assure 
its  validity  in  relation  to  anything  else. 

Evidently  the  said  laws  are  not  only  valid  for  me. 
They  are  valid  for  every  other  reasonable  man.  This 
means  that,  in  reference  to  thinking,  men  are  like  one 


'79 


180  The  Great  Problems 

another,  while  they  differ  more  or  less  in  reference  to 
psychical  processes  of  another  kind.  This  cube  has  six 
faces,  eight  vertices,  and  twelve  edges.  So  has  every 
other  cube.  The  cubes  A  and  B  are  like  each  other  in 
one  respect,  while  they  differ  in  situation,  in  size,  and 
perhaps  in  other  characteristics.  We  can  speak  so  as 
to  make  ourselves  understood,  or  so  that  we  might  as 
well  not  have  spoken.  If  we  wish  to  make  ourselves 
understood,  if  we  wish  something  to  be  said,  we  must 
not  contradict  what  we  have  said.  In  substance  the 
principles  referred  to  express  no  other  law  than  this. 

The  persuasion,  however  strong  and  apparently  well 
founded,  that  certain  judgments  are  mutually  consistent 
or  inconsistent,  is  not  enough  to  make  the  judgments 
really  consistent  or  inconsistent.  These  relations,  then, 
cannot  be  reduced  to  simple  connections  of  fact  between 
the  affirmations  that  one  makes,  in  so  far  as  he  makes 
them.  A  change  of  opinion  must  be  justified  in  a 
different  way  from  a  change  of  taste. 

With  all  this,  the  said  laws  seem  laws  of  the 
subjective  thinking  activity,  of  our  thinking — of  the 
thinking  of  all,  because  of  the  thinking  of  each. 

Relations  also  exist  between  facts — between  things 
considered  in  reference  to  their  variations,  and  also  to 
their  beginning  and  ending.  But  they  are  causal 
relations,  differing  from  logical  relations  because  facts 
are  not  judgments  or  reasoning.  Happening  inde- 
pendent of  our  thought  is  one  thing,  our  thinking  is 
another.  A  system  of  thoughts  may  be  endowed  with 
an  absolutely  intrinsic  coherence,  and  have  no  value 
as  a  cognition  of  reality.  For  instance,  we  have  ever 
so  many  geometries,  all  equally  true  as  geometries,  but 
only  one,  or  perhaps  none  at  all,  can  be  true  as  the 
doctrine  of  that  space  in  which  bodies  are  extended 
and  move. 


Reality  and  Reason  181 

It  is  true  that  whatever  we  know  about  things  can 
be  reduced  to  judgments,  and  therefore  cannot  be  out- 
side logical  relations.  But  all  knowledge  implies  as  its 
essential  element — without  which  what  we  say  would 
not  express  knowledge — the  distinction,  the  difference 
between  the  thing  known  and  the  knowledge  we  have 
of  it.  I  say,  for  instance,  "  Warm  a  piece  of  metal  and  it 
expands."  This  also  takes  place  when  neither  I  nor 
anyone  else  knows  anything  about  it.  The  causal  re- 
lation between  the  heating  of  the  metal  and  its 
expansion  is  quite  different  from  the  logical  relation 
between  the  judgments ;  the  metal  is  warmed,  and  the 
metal  expands. 

Without  discussing  the  answer  more  deeply,  let  us 
notice  that  according  to  common  thought,  the  causal 
relations  between  things  or  facts  are  quite  different  from 
the  logical  relations  between  opinions  or  judgments, 
and  that  things  have  only  causal  relations  with  one 
another  and  not  logical  relations.  This  point  of  view 
is  perhaps  never  expressed,  but  it  is  implicit  in  the 
clear-cut  distinction  between  subjective  thought  and 
reality  independent  of  the  subject.  We  have  only 
rendered  it  explicit. 

Let  us  deduce  its  ultimate  consequence,  and  put  it 
in  its  most  precise  form.  One  thing,  if  we  neglect  the 
causal  processes  which  might  connect  it  with  others, 
might  be  annihilated  without  the  others  undergoing 
any  modification,  and  it  would  remain  unchanged  if 
all  the  others  were  annihilated.  We  know  well  that 
one  thing  cannot  change  without  others  changing  also. 
If  the  tumbler  were  not  supported  by  the  table  or  some- 
thing else,  it  would  fall  and  be  broken.  The  sea,  without 
the  atmospheric  pressure,  would  become  vapour.  If  one 
thing  changes,  all  others  undergo  eventually  some  change, 
though  possibly  a  very  small  one.  This,  however,  is  due 


1 82  The  Great  Problems 

to  the  causal  processes  which  are  actually  in  operation, 
but  which  we  are  neglecting.  We  know  besides  that  it 
is  neither  possible  to  destroy  one  thing,  nor  all  things 
but  that  one.  But  the  principle  formulated  does  not 
presuppose  the  destructibility  of  anything.  Is  there  a 
logical  relation  between  space  and  feeling  ?  No.  Then 
feelings  would  be  possible  even  if  the  world  were  not 
spatial.  They  would  remain  the  same  (causal  relations 
apart)  even  if  the  world  lost  (which  is  impossible)  its 
spatiality.  Of  two  things  which  have  no  logical  relation 
between  them  and  of  which  therefore  neither  implies  the 
other,  each  would  remain  the  same  even  if  the  other  were 
not,  or  ceased  to  exist.  Whether  one  of  the  things  can 
or  cannot  exist  is  of  no  consequence. 

Among  the  conceptions  of  the  world,  that  in  which 
the  principle  has  its  most  explicit  and  coherent  expression 
is  perhaps  atomism.  Each  atom  is  absolute,  a  species  of 
material  God,  which  exists  by  itself  and  suffices  for  itself. 
Of  atoms  there  are  many,  but  the  existence  of  each  is 
independent  of  that  of  the  others,  and  does  not  include 
it  as  a  constituent  of  itself.  The  connecting  together  of 
the  atoms  so  as  to  form  a  universe,  which  somehow  may 
be  called  one,  is  causal,  not  logical. 


II 

The  logical  independence  of  things — we  are  now 
considering  this  independence  in  abstraction  from 
Logical  non-  causal  relations — excludes  the  things  having 
o^Mngs?1101  common  characters.  Let  Titius  and  Sern- 
pronius  be  co-proprietors  of  the  same  field. 
The  impoverishment  of  Titius,  due  to  a  hail-storm  by 
which  the  produce  of  that  field  has  been  destroyed,  does 
not  produce  but  ts  of  itself  the  same  impoverishment  of 
Sempronius. 


Reality  and  Reason  183 

Things  have  common  characters.  The  atom  A 
exists,  so  does  the  atom  B.  I  predicate  of  both  the 
same  concept  of  existence. 

Answer  is  made  by  distinguishing  between  the 
concept  which  is  only  one  and  the  characters  which, 
though  identical,  are  as  many  as  the  things  of  which  the 
concept  is  predicated. 

Of  course  we  do  not  reject  what  has  already  been 
established,  i.e.  that  the  concept  is  the  character  thought 
of — the  character  so  far  as  we  have  distinct  conscious- 
ness of  it.  Nevertheless  the  unity  of  the  concept 
appears  reconcilable  with  the  multiplicity  of  the  iden- 
tical characters.  This  is  red,  and  this  other  is  red. 
The  one  red  is  not  the  other — in  fact  the  one  is  here, 
the  other  there,  the  one  is  a  character  of  a  wax  cube, 
the  other  of  an  ivory  ball.  But  I  separate  each  of  the 
two  reds  from  the  other  elements  with  which  it  is 
associated.  The  two,  because  they  are  identical,  become 
indistinguishable  after  this  separation.  They  constitute, 
in  so  far  as  thought  of,  one  element  only. 

Let  us  accept  the  answer.  And  let  us  notice  that  if 
the  characters  of  A  and  B  are  two,  though  identical, 
and  each  exclusively  peculiar  to  the  one  thing,  each 
would  be  annihilated  along  with  the  thing.  And  let  us 
not  oppose  to  this  the  impossibility  of  annihilating  the 
thing,  because  we  are  not  presupposing  that  the 
annihilation  is  possible.  One  thing,  by  our  supposition, 
is  logically  independent  of  the  others.  Therefore  the 
thing  cannot  be  annihilated  (which  I  grant),  but  in 
virtue  of  a  requirement  of  its  own,  not  because  its 
annihilation  would  offend  any  other  requirement  what- 
ever. That  is  to  say,  in  considering  other  things,  I 
can  also  suppose  a  thing  annihilated,  because  the  others 
have  nothing  to  do  with  its  existence  or  non-existence. 

If  a  thing  is  annihilated,  the  characters  which  are 


184  The  Great  Problems 

exclusively  its  own  are  annihilated  with  it.  The  same 
characters  of  the  other  thing  remain  unchanged,  but 
those  of  the  thing  annihilated  vanish.  The  thing  which 
we  have  annihilated  (or  which  we  can  suppose  anni- 
hilated without  any  other  change  logically  following), 
say  A  for  instance,  a  sphere,  of  given  centre  and  radius, 
red  in  colour.  With  the  annihilation  of  the  thing  those 
characters,  which  are  its  existence  and  its  redness,  also 
vanish.  For  the  same  reason  that  other  character — the 
spatial  sphere  (which  is  spatial  only),  with  which  A 
coincided — will  likewise  vanish — i.e.  space  will  no 
longer  admit  such  a  sphere. 

Now  this  result  is  absurd.  Let  M  and  N  be  two 
points  in  space  (belonging  to  two  things)  such  that  the 
straight  line  MN  cuts  the  said  sphere  internally  on 
the  segment  MN.  I  ask  if  the  distance  MN  is  or  is  not 
diminished  with  the  annihilation  of  A.  If  it  is,  then 
the  annihilation  of  A  had  consequences  (besides  the 
eventual  disturbance  of  the  causal  processes  in  which  A 
took  part — processes  of  which  we  have  said  nothing),  or 
else  it  is  not  true  that  the  other  things  were  logically 
independent  of  A.  If  the  distance  MN  is  not  dimin- 
ished, the  spatial  sphere  which  at  first  was  occupied  by 
A  still  exists,  and  therefore  it  was  not  a  characteristic 
exclusively  peculiar  to  A,  as  we  had  supposed. 

This  last  hypothesis,  which  is  the  true  one,  excludes 
the  absolute  logical  independence  of  two  bodies.  Two 
spheres,  spatial  only,  distinct,  though  of  identical 
character — as,  for  instance,  those  occupied  now  by  two 
identical  billiard  balls — are,  though  identical,  two.  But 
they  are  interdependent ;  they  both  exist  in  so  far  as 
there  is  one  and  the  same  space  presupposed  by  both 
and  presupposing  both.  Therefore  they  mutually  pre- 
suppose each  other,  and  are  not  logically  independent  of 
each  other.  And  since  the  two  spatial  spheres  are 


Reality  and  Reason  185 

characters  of  the  two  balls,  it  follows  that  the  two  balls 
also  are  not  logically  independent. 

A  body  can  be  moved,  distorted,  compressed,  or 
expanded ;  it  is  resistant,  capable  of  being  divided  into 
parts,  is  smooth  or  rough  ;  it  has  a  colour,  a  tempera- 
ture, also  frequently  a  smell  and  a  taste — properties  or 
characters  which  are  not  comprehensible  apart  from 
extension  in  space,  or  which  logically  presuppose  such 
extension.  They  also  presuppose  causal  processes.  A 
body  has  a  colour  in  so  far  as  it  emits  or  reflects  light, 
so  becoming  visible,  &c.  But  the  fact  that  causal 
processes  are  presupposed  does  not  prevent  spatial  ex- 
tension from  being  presupposed.  Therefore,  when  once 
we  have  shown  that  bodies  are  logically  interdependent 
in  so  far  as  they  are  extended  in  space,  it  can  be  shown 
that  they  are  logically  interdependent  in  so  far  as  they 
are  real,  though  it  is  true  that  to  understand  well  the 
real  connection  we  must  take  into  account  also  the 
causal  processes  which  we  have  hitherto  neglected. 

That  logical  relations  exist  between  bodies  in  space 
has  been  shown. 

On  this  subject  we  add  some  other  considerations 
which  are  not  necessary,  but  may  be  useful  to  some 
readers. 

Ill 

We  can  suppose  a  material  sphere  to  be  removed, 
distorted,  or  even  destroyed.  Its  annihilation  cannot  be 
causally  effected,  but  is  certainly  thinkable,  Loglcal  inter_ 
at  least  if  we  admit  the  mutual  logical  inde-  dependence 

,°  of  things 

pendence  of  bodies.     But  when  the  material  continued: 
sphere  is  removed,  distorted,  or  annihilated, 
the    spatial   sphere    remains.     This    cannot    be    moved, 
distorted,   or   destroyed.      It    is   always    the    same.      It 
cannot  cease  to  exist. 


1 86  The  Great  Problems 

"  Abuse  of  language,"  say  our  opponents.  "  The 
spatial  sphere  exists  in  so  far  as  we  are  able  to 
consider  it,  and  not  otherwise." 

I  admit  that  the  spatial  sphere  exists  in  so  far  as 
we  are  able  to  consider  it.  But  the  being  able  to  con- 
sider is  not  the  same  as  considering.  Bodies  have 
spatial  characters  along  with  others.  Who  doubts 
it  ?  And  when  we  make  abstraction  from  the  others, 
we  certainly  make  abstraction,  but  in  such  a  way  that 
we  come  to  consider  certain  characters  of  things,  and 
to  consider  those  only,  but  not  to  create  them.  Here 
is  a  wax  ball  which  I  suppose  perfectly  spherical  (it 
may  have  the  form  of  a  sphere  just  as  much  as  the 
other  was  supposed  to  have  it).  Let  anyone  try  to 
draw  a  straight  line  on  its  surface.  He  will  not 
succeed.  Nor  would  he  succeed  if  the  operation  were 
tried  in  another  place  at  another  time,  nor  yet  if 
the  ball  were  made  of  something  else  than  wax,  &c. 
This  means  that  the  spatial  sphere,  although  it  does 
not  exist  alone  (by  itself  it  is  not  a  possible  content 
of  sensation  or  representation),  has  a  requirement,  and 
therefore  in  some  way  an  existence.  This  existence 
(of  whatever  kind  it  be)  of  a  sphere  implies  the  exist- 
ence of  space,  and  therefore  implies  the  existence  of  all 
the  other  spheres,  of  all  the  other  figures. 

All  know  that  geometricians  reconstruct  space  by 
means  of  certain  postulates  they  make.  They  can 
reconstruct  it  in  different  ways.  They  can,  that  is, 
assume  different  systems  of  postulates,  each  free  from 
contradiction.  As  from  one  of  those  systems,  Euclid's, 
a  doctrine  can  be  deduced,  interpretable  in  the  sense 
of  spatial  experience,  geometricians,  who  have,  as  such, 
no  motive  to  attribute  a  preference  to  one  system  of 
postulates  over  another,  consider  each  system  as  char- 
acteristic of  a  space.  But  that  does  not  go  one  step 


Reality  and  Reason  187 

towards  proving  the  possibility  of  a  space  other  than 
the  empirical  one.  One  of  those  methods  gives  us,  for 
instance,  spherical  space,  in  which  infinite  lines  like  our 
straight  lines,  each  of  which  is  determined  by  any  two 
points,  are  not  possible,  nor  are  parallel  lines  possible. 
If  a  straight  line  runs  along  itself,  a  point  which  is 
invariably  connected  with  it  traverses,  in  Euclidean 
space,  another  straight  line  parallel  to  the  former, 
whereas  in  another  space  it  traverses  a  line  other  than 
straight  (or  what  in  the  space  under  consideration 
corresponds  to  a  straight  line). 

In  short,  a  whole  system  of  postulates  determines 
space,  in  its  totality  as  well  as  in  every  part.  It 
distinguishes  in  it  the  possibilities  (which  are  then 
necessities)  from  the  impossibilities.  It  expresses  its 
necessary  requirements.  Space  has  therefore  a  logical 
requirement  of  its  own ;  it  is  not  a  collection  of  places 
and  figures,  but  a  rigorous  unity.  For  instance,  it 
would  not  admit  this  sphere  (which  I  represent  to 
myself  and  consider  with  its  centre  in  this  place  and 
a  determinate  radius)  if  it  did  not  admit  a  straight 
line  (for  the  radius  of  a  sphere  is  the  segment  of  a 
straight  line),  and  hence  if  it  did  not  admit  an  infinite 
number  of  other  spheres  equal  to  the  given  one,  of 
which  any  point  in  space  could  be  the  centre  and  an 
infinite  number  of  other  spheres,  greater  and  smaller, 
and  so  on.  Hence  spatial  entities  are  logically  inter- 
dependent ;  each  logically  presupposes  the  others.  To 
suppose  one  and  not  another  is  absurd,  because  if  this 
other  did  not  exist,  the  space  would  be  different,  and 
then  not  even  the  first  could  be  what  has  been  supposed. 

Since  the  physical  properties  of  bodies  are  inseparable 
from  spatiality,  the  bodies,  being  spatially  interdependent, 
will  be  interdependent  also  in  their  physical  properties. 
The  question  whether  the  causal  relations,  hitherto  un- 


1 88  The  Great  Problems 

considered,  can  or  cannot  be  reduced  to  logical  relations 
alone  remains  undiscussed ;  but  certainly  the  causal 
relations  are  not  independent  of  the  logical  ones.  There 
is  a  logical  connection  between  all  things  that  are  given 
in  space,  referable  to  their  being  given  in  space.  Space 
being  logically  connected  in  itself,  all  that  is  given  in 
space  is  subject,  for  that  very  reason,  to  absolutely 
necessary  laws ;  hence  the  whole  collection  of  things 
becomes,  under  one  aspect,  one  thing  only. 

We  have  gone  beyond  a  vulgar  conception  and 
corrected  it,  but  we  have  also  in  part  justified  it.  The 
concept  of  a  sphere  is  (in  so  far  as  it  is  thought)  one 
concept  only,  but  two  spherical  bodies  have  equal  or 
similar  characteristics  (according  as  the  spheres  have 
equal  or  different  radii) — not  one  and  the  same  charac- 
teristic which  is  strictly  common.  That  which  gives  a 
reason  for  the  equality  or  similarity  of  the  characteristics 
is  the  unity  of  space,  which  can  be  called  common  in  so 
far  as  each  part  of  it  logically  presupposes  the  whole,  but 
which  still  has  parts  distinct  from  each  other. 


IV 

Let  us  consider  any  two  facts  whatever.  And  let 
us  fix  for  each  the  instant  of  a  particular  phase.  For 
continuation:  example,  if  we  are  dealing  with  the  movement 
tlme-  of  a  body  (without  intervals  of  rest),  the  in- 

stant in  which  the  body  has  a  given  situation  ;  if  we 
are  dealing  with  a  body  which  is  being  heated,  the 
instant  at  which  its  temperature  has  a  given  value,  &c. 
Evidently  also  non-physical  facts  can  be  reduced  to  ana- 
logous successions  of  phases. 

The  instants  thus  determined,  the  one  for  one  fact, 
the  other  for  the  other,  will  either  coincide,  i.e.  will  be 
one  instant  only,  or  they  will  not  coincide,  and  one  of 


Reality  and  Reason  189 

the  two  will  precede  the  other.  No  third  eventuality  is 
possible.  This  means  that  any  two  facts  whatever,  no 
matter  how  different  from  all  those  of  which  we  know  any- 
thing and  from  each  other,  though  they  have  no  causal 
connection,  direct  or  indirect,  actual  or  possible,  though 
they  have  no  other  connection  of  any  sort,  have  yet  a 
time  relation  with  each  other. 

It  may  be  that  the  respective  durations  of  the  two 
facts  have  no  instant  in  common.  In  this  case,  however, 
one  of  the  two  facts  precedes  the  other.  The  time  in 
which  the  facts  happen  is  rigorously  one  only,  although 
each  fact,  to  which  we  can  assign  an  instant  of  commence- 
ment and  another  of  ending,  occupies  always  only  a  part 
of  it,  a  very  small  part,  absolutely  negligible  compared 
with  the  lapse  of  time. 

For  physical  facts,  the  unity  of  space  in  which  they 
all  happen  is  enough,  as  we  have  seen,  to  constitute 
between  them  all  logical  relations  which  their  physical 
happening  cannot  fail  to  satisfy.  Physical  facts  which 
do  not  satisfy  the  laws  of  geometry  are  impossible. 
Physical  reality  and  physical  happening  are  something 
necessarily  bound  together — causal  relations  apart — by 
one  system  of  geometrical  or  logical  relations.  In  con- 
sequence, the  vulgar  persuasion  that  bodies  and  the  facts 
to  which  they  give  rise  are  logically  independent  of  one 
another,  that  the  physical  world  can  be  reduced  (either 
by  existence  or  happening)  to  a  jumble  of  elements,  ex- 
traneous to  one  another  and  disconnected  except  in  so 
far  as  causation  accidentally  connects  them — cannot  be 
maintained.  The  physical  universe  is  really  one  uni- 
verse, it  is  one  thing  and  not  a  disorderly  or  unarranged 
mass  of  things,  to  each  of  which  the  others  are  not 
essential ;  one  thing,  which  nevertheless  does  not  ex- 
clude a  great  variety  of  intrinsic  formations,  inconceiv- 
able outside  the  unity  which  comprehends  them. 


190  The  Great  Problems 

The  unity  of  time  renders  inevitable  the  extension 
of  the  aforesaid  conclusions  to  facts  of  every  possible 
kind.  It  establishes  between  facts — apart  from  causality 
and  spatiality — logical  relations  absolutely  irreconcilable 
with  the  supposition  that  facts  can  be  independent, 
extraneous  to  one  another,  except  in  so  far  as  causation 
accidentally  connects  them. 

The  extreme  simplicity  of  the  time-relations  which 
can  be  reduced  to  those  of  simultaneity  and  succession 
must  not  lead  us  into  error.  Space  has  three  dimen- 
sions, and  therefore  geometry  is  developed  in  an  infinite 
series  of  theorems.  The  difficulty  of  learning  it,  to- 
gether with  its  undeniable  validity,  makes  everyone 
recognise  its  importance.  Chronometry  sums  up  in  a 
few  words  what  all  know  perfectly  well,  therefore  no 
one  pays  any  attention  to  it.  But  if  it  is  too  easy  to  be 
called  a  science,  it  is  still  no  less  valid  than  geometry, 
or,  rather,  it  has  this  great  advantage  over  it,  that  it  is 
valid  for  all  happening,  while  geometry  is  valid  only  for 
spatial  happening. 

Of  two  instants  which  do  not  coincide,  one  always 
precedes  the  other.  A  third  instant  which  coincides 
with  neither  of  the  other  two  must  precede  the  first,  or 
follow  the  .second,  or  fall  between  the  two.  An  instant 
which  precedes  another  precedes  all  those  which  follow 
this  latter.  Hence  among  the  instants  which  follow 
a  given  instant,  there  is  not  one  which  precedes  it ; 
while  a  point  which  moves  in  a  line,  passing  successively 
through  the  points  A  and  B,  first  through  A  and  then 
through  ¥>,  and  continuing  its  motion  in  the  same  direc- 
tion, will,  if  the  line  is  closed,  pass  again  through  A  after 
having  passed  through  B.  Two  durations  which  begin 
at  one  and  the  same  instant  are  equal  if  they  finish 
also  at  the  same  instant,  otherwise  the  one  which 
finishes  first  is  the  smaller.  And  between  the  equal  or 


Reality  and  Reason  191 

unequal  durations  there  exist  the  same  relations  as  in 
general  between  equal  or  unequal  magnitudes,  and  so 
on.  Trite  notions,  but  at  the  same  time  logical  laws, 
absolutely  necessary,  of  every  happening. 


There  is  a  question  which,  as  not  strictly  re- 
levant, might  be  left  alone,  but  it  will  be  well  to 
discuss  it  briefly.  Let  A,  B,  C,  D  be  four 

J  .  .         The  unl- 

instants  which  succeed  each  other  in  this  formityof 
order.  Let  us  denote  the  interval  AB  by  tt 
the  interval  BC  by  t2,  and  the  interval  CD  by  t3.  We 
compare  tx  and  t2,  calling  them  now  equal,  now  unequal, 
and  in  the  second  case  we  establish  between  them 
arithmetically  determinate  relations.  For  instance,  the 
interval  between  the  time  when  the  clock  marks  six, 
and  when  it  marks  eight,  is  greater  than — precisely 
twice  as  great  as — the  interval  between  the  time  when 
the  clock  marks  two  and  when  it  marks  three.  We 
ask  how  a  comparison  is  possible  or  intelligible  between 
two  things  which,  although  comprehended  in  time,  are 
altogether  outside  each  other. 

The  hands  of  the  clock  move  with  uniform  speed, 
and  therefore  in  traversing  the  arc  VI-VIII  they  will 
employ  a  greater  time  than  in  traversing  the  arc  II-III, 
twice  as  great  exactly.  But  how  do  I  know  that  the 
hands  of  the  clock  move  with  uniform  speed  ?  Because 
I  see  them  traverse  equal  spaces  in  equal  times.  The 
possibility  of  comparing  two  intervals  of  time,  so  as  to 
decide  if  they  are  equal  or  unequal,  is  therefore  pre- 
supposed by  the  proceeding  with  which  we  wished  to 
give  a  reason  for  it.  We  are  in  a  vicious  circle. 

All  know  that  we  cannot  always  trust  the  indications 
of  a  clock.  To  avoid  possible  errors  each  of  us  compares 


192  The  Great  Problems 

from  time  to  time  the  indications  of  his  own  timepiece 
with  those  of  other  clocks.  The  final  criterion  is  given 
by  the  clock  of  some  astronomical  observatory.  Astro- 
nomers, who  in  the  matter  of  time  are  extremely 
particular,  have  clocks  of  very  great  precision,  which 
they  are  constantly  testing  by  means  of  observations  of 
the  heavens.  It  is  a  fact  that  we  thus  succeed  in 
satisfying  our  own  practical  requirements  and  the  more 
delicate  needs  of  the  astronomers.  We  end,  that  is,  by 
only  believing  two  times  equal  if  they  appear  so  to  us 
according  to  a  certain  criterion  roughly  applied ;  they 
might  not  appear  so  to  us  according  to  the  same  criterion 
applied  with  greater  care. 

But  the  theoretical  question  "  How  do  we  know  ? " 
remains  unsolved.  For  the  criterion  is  in  substance 
always  the  same.  I  who  look  at  the  clock,  the  astro- 
nomer who  watches  the  stars,  both  call  equal  two  times 
corresponding  to  equal  spaces  traversed  by  bodies  sup- 
posed to  have  uniform  speed  (I  suppose  the  rotation 
of  the  clock's  hands  to  be  uniform,  the  astronomer 
supposes  the  same  of  the  rotation  of  the  earth).  Now 
the  uniformity  of  a  speed  cannot  be  recognised  by  one 
who  cannot  recognise  if  two  times  are  equal  or  unequal. 

Let  the  instants  A  and  B,  between  which  the  interval 
of  time  which  we  have  called  tt  elapses,  be  marked  by  the 
respective  commencingof  two  facts,  M,  and  N,,;  the  instants 
C  and  D  between  which  is  t2,by  the  respective  commencing 
of  the  facts  M2  and  N2 ;  and  let  M2  be  the  repetition  of  M1 
and  N2  that  of  Nr  For  instance,  Mj  a  stone  beginning  to 
fall,  M2  the  same  stone  beginning  to  fall  again  from  the 
same  place  ;  N,  the  stone  finishing  its  fall,  N2  the  stone 
finishing  its  fall  for  the  second  time.  It  may  be,  and 
perhaps  generally  is,  true  that  the  appearance  of  t,  and 
t0  as  the  durations  of  two  complex  facts,  the  one  of 
which  seems  to  be  the  repetition  of  the  other,  may  lead 


Reality  and  Reason  193 

us  to  believe  t,  equal  to  t2,  but  this  belief  is  not  a 
necessity.  We  know  that  the  rapidity  with  which  two 
facts  succeed  each  other  may  vary  between  the  two 
times  at  which  those  facts  (supposed  respectively  equal) 
are  realised.  For  instance,  the  fall  of  the  same  stone 
from  the  same  height  will  require  different  intervals 
of  time  if  the  medium  traversed  is  different.  The 
rotation  of  the  earth  from  which  we  obtain  the  sidereal 
day  might  be  completed  with  varying  speeds,  or  rather 
we  know  that  its  speed  is  diminishing,  and  we  have 
succeeded  in  measuring  with  great  accuracy  its  slow 
diminution. 

VI 

What  do  we  conclude?  That  although  our  recog- 
nition of  an  interval  is  subordinate  to  our  recognition 
of  two  facts  (or  two  phases  of  one  fact), 


which    commence    or    finish   respectively   at  ^y  of  time  : 

J  in  happening; 

the  extreme  instants  of  the  same  interval,  in  thinking; 
we  nevertheless  conceive  the  interval  inde- 
pendently of  the  facts  which  make  us  recognise  it. 
For  the  ordinary  man,  a  day  means  certainly  the  interval, 
whatever  it  is,  between  two  successive  sunrises.  It 
signifies  for  the  astronomer  the  interval,  whatever  it 
is,  between  two  successive  risings  of  the  same  star. 
But  it  is  impossible  that  underlying  such  an  empirical 
concept  there  should  not  be  another  concept,  even  if 
it  be  quite  confused  and  only  implicit.  In  fact,  we 
understand  and  affirm  as  a  possibility,  or  rather  as  a 
reality,  that  the  day,  understood  as  before,  is  increas- 
ing (owing  to  the  diminution  of  speed  of  the  earth's 
rotation).  And  this,  which  we  understand  and  affirm, 
would  be  a  mad  extravagance,  and  would  never  have 
entered  anyone's  head,  if  that  interval  of  time  which 
nowadays  elapses  between  two  successive  risings  of 

N 


194  The  Great  Problems 

the  sun  or  of  a  star  were  not  always  uniformly  equal, 
whatever  the  velocity  of  the  earth's  rotation,  or  of 
any  other  variation  whatever. 

On  the  other  hand,  if  we  make  abstraction  from 
every  happening,  even  from  our  subjective  varying, 
it  is  no  longer  possible  to  speak  of  a  duration  which 
is  divisible  into  parts;  the  word  "time"  has  no  more 
meaning. 

Therefore  time  certainly  presupposes  a  happening, 
but  the  real  intrinsic  duration  of  an  interval  is  not 
constituted  by  any  particular  one  of  the  facts  which 
happen  in  it,  for  each  of  these  facts  might  also  last 
a  longer  or  shorter  time.  With  regard  to  each  par- 
ticular fact,  the  intrinsic  duration  of  an  interval  is 
a  simple  possibility,  just  as  for  space,  every  point  of 
space  is  the  centre  of  a  sphere  of  radius,  r — that  is  to 
say,  it  can  be  occupied  by  the  centre  of  a  material 
sphere  of  radius,  r. 

To  the  question,  "  What  is  the  reality  of  this  pos- 
sibility ?  "  we  answer  in  two  ways.  First,  it  is  happen- 
ing taken  as  a  whole ;  not  this  or  that  happening, 
but  all  happening.  In  fact,  a  particular  variation  can 
be  completed  with  greater  or  less  rapidity,  can  last 
a  longer  or  shorter  time.  The  earth  or  this  clock  is 
losing.  But  a  variation  always  loses  or  gains  in  com- 
parison with  some  other ;  to  suppose  that  all  possible 
variations  could  be  gaining  or  losing  is  nonsense.  For 
this  purpose  what  is  presupposed  by  time  is  the  universe 
— the  universe  in  so  far  as  it  varies.  The  reality  and 
the  unity  of  time  are  the  reality  and  unity  of  the 
universe  —  its  uniformity  is  a  law  of  the  (variable) 
universe.  Secondly,  it  is  the  consciousness  of  the  cog- 
nitive subject.  Time,  us  implicit  in  the  consciousness 
which  apprehends  happening  by  the  senses — time,  which 
I  apprehend  in  so  far  as  I  apprehend  a  certain  varia- 


Reality  ana  Reason  195 

tion — is  not  uniform.  Two  intervals,  which  are  really 
equal,  appear  to  me  unequal  if  they  are  differently 
filled  by  those  small  parts  of  happening  which  are 
contained  in  my  sensory  consciousness.  Five  minutes 
waiting,  when  I  am  in  a  hurry,  appear  to  me  longer 
than  an  hour  spent  in  agreeable  conversation.  If  I 
did  not  make  references  (to  a  clock  or  something  else), 
which  are  cognitions,  the  error  would  be  insuperable, 
or,  rather,  it  would  not  be  an  error.  The  uniformity 
of  time  exists  in  so  far  as  I  conceive  it ;  it  is  a  law 
of  my  conception,  of  my  knowing,  of  the  conception 
and  knowing  of  every  subject  that  is  capable  of  it. 

The  two  answers  coincide.  I  know,  in  so  far  as 
a  law,  which  in  my  sensory  consciousness  is  only  implicit, 
becomes  explicit  there.  My  sensory  consciousness,  be 
it  understood,  is  consciousness  of  reality.  A  subject, 
whose  sensory  consciousness  included  everything  real, 
would  perceive,  along  with  other  facts,  those  which  I 
perceive.  But  the  sensory  consciousness,. being  limited, 
is  fragmentary.  The  laws  which  make  themselves 
valid  in  it,  which  in  such  a  way  are  implicit  in  it, 
would  neither  make  themselves  valid  nor  be  implicit 
in  it,  if  the  sensory  consciousness  were  not  connected 
by  way  of  unconsciousness  with  the  totality,  with  the 
unity  of  happening,  in  which  alone  the  laws  have  their 
foundation  and  fulfilment.  Therefore  to  know,  to  gain 
explicit  consciousness  of  a  law,  always  means  on  the 
part  of  the  subject  to  pass  beyond  the  limits  of  its 
own  sensory  nature,  and  to  raise  itself  to  the  unity 
of  the  whole.  That  a  man  should  know  more  or  less, 
and  be  more  or  less  clearly  conscious  of  the  philo- 
sophic value  of  what  he  knows,  is  of  small  importance. 
In  other  words,  the  laws  of  my  subjective  thinking 
and  those  of  objective  happening  coincide.  I  strive 
to  connect  in  one  system  the  facts  of  which  1  am  con- 


196  The  Great  Problems 

scious.  For  such  a  purpose  I  must  reconstruct  them, 
subjecting  my  activity  in  generalising,  asserting,  deny- 
ing, and  discussing,  to  those  same  laws  by  which  the 
facts  are  regulated,  which  laws  are  implicit  in  my 
consciousness,  and  are  rendered  explicit  in  it  precisely 
in  this  way.  Between  the  laws  to  which  I  must  con- 
form as  a  thinker,  which  I  formulate  in  so  far  as  I 
conform  to  them,  and  those  which  regulate  happening, 
there  neither  is,  nor  can  be,  difference.  Otherwise  there 
would  be  no  knowledge. 

The  uniformity  of  time  is  at  once  a  logical  and  a  real 
requirement — real  in  so  far  as  logical,  and  logical  in  so 
far  as  real.  It  constitutes  another  proof  of  a  logical 
character  essential  to  things,  of  their  fundamental  unity. 

Let  me  say  a  word  here  on  number,  which  we  are 
accustomed,  perhaps  rather  capriciously,  to  connect  with 
time.  Distinct  things,  distinct  facts,  can  be  counted. 
In  order  that  we  may  be  able  to  count  elements,  each 
must  be  considered  as  an  element — that  is,  we  must 
recognise  something  common  to  all.  Different  things, 
qua  different,  cannot  be  counted.  So-and-so  is  twenty 
years  of  age,  and  has  ten  pence.  No  one  can  say  that  he 
is  or  has  thirty.  .  .  .  Thirty  what  ?  Numbers  are 
concepts.  Arithmetic  is  a  purely  rational  science,  and 
can  be  constructed  without  regard  to  reality.  Never- 
theless it  is  valid  for  reality,  but  under  certain  conditions. 
If  the  number  of  the  elements  varies  intrinsically 
according  to  a  law  of  which  we  take  no  account,  the 
applications  of  arithmetic  fail.  But  this  means  that  the 
science  of  reality  cannot  be  reduced  to  arithmetic  only, 
not  that  reality  can  contradict  arithmetic.  Finally, 
number  as  a  concept  (as  a  purely  mental  operation)  and 
number  as  a  characteristic  of  a  group  of  elements 
strictly  coincide.  We  can  discuss  (without  reason,  in  my 
opinion)  if  shape,  extension,  colour,  and  sound  really 


Reality  and  Reason  197 

exist  in  reality,  but  that  four  is  only  the  way  in  which  I 
conceive  the  hoofs  of  a  horse  and  not  a  characteristic  of 
that  multiplicity,  the  horse's  hoofs,  is  a  senseless  sup- 
position. Arithmetic  therefore  implies  a  certain  unity 
in  things,  a  rationality  which  makes  itself  valid  in 
things,  rigorously  the  same  both  in  reality  and  in  our 
thought. 

VII 

We  are  essentially  active  and  passive,  alike  with 
respect  to  the  external  world  and  in  ourselves.  In  work- 
ing: we  encounter  obstacles  which  make  an  im- 

.  i  •    i  causal  re- 

pression upon  us.     And  the  strictly  psychical  lationaand 

logical  rela 

facts,  those  exclusively  our  own,  are  mutually  tions :  their 
modified  and  so  bound  together  both  in  the 
field  of  consciousness  and  in  that  of  unconsciousness. 
The  subject  only  feels  its  own  reality  in  so  far  as  its 
living  consists  in  a  causal  connection  of  facts.  It  only 
distinguishes  external  facts  as  real  from  its  images  of 
those  facts  in  so  far  as  it  apprehends  that  those  facts 
modify  its  consciousness  and  modify  one  another.  The 
"  /"  knows  its  own  reality  and  that  of  the  external 
world  only  in  so  far  as  it  renders  itself  explicitly  con- 
scious of  those  relations  of  dependence  which  the  simple 
subject  only  lives. 

Intrinsic  causal  connection  is  therefore  a  constituent 
of  reality  qua  reality.  Hence  it  follows  that,  to  get  to 
the  bottom  of  our  knowledge  of  reality,  we  must  get  to 
the  bottom  of  our  knowledge  of  causal  connection. 
Causal  connection  is  a  connection  between  facts,  between 
concrete  objects.  Mental  phenomena,  concepts  and  judg- 
ments, are  outside  it.  To  have  a  concept  and  to  pro- 
nounce a  judgment  are  real  facts  of  a  determinate  subject, 
and  are  subject  to  causal  connection,  but  the  causal  con- 
nection of  these  psychical  facts  witli  others,  or  among 


198  The  Great  Problems 

themselves,  is  not  to  be  confounded  with  the  logical  rela- 
tion between  concepts  and  judgments.  Between  real  facts, 
on  the  other  hand,  there  are  logical  relations  identical 
with  those  which  are  valid  for  pure  mental  phenomena. 

The  reason  why  logical  relations  are  possible  between 
concrete  objects  was  indicated  when  we  discussed  space 
and  time.  In  the  end  they  are  reduced  to  this,  that 
the  characteristics  and  laws  of  reality  are  concepts  and 
judgments.  We  add  a  couple  of  examples.  The  moon, 
which  is  illuminated  by  the  sun,  revolves  round  the 
earth  in  a  circle  which  excludes  the  sun.  Hence  it 
follows  that  the  moon,  seen  from  the  earth,  must  possess 
its  well-known  phases.  Geometrically,  let  a  sphere  be 
divided  by  a  plane  into  two  hemispheres  a  and  ft  (one 
illuminated,  the  other  dark),  and  by  another  plane  into 
two  other  hemispheres  7  and  $  (one  visible  from  a  given 
point,  the  other  invisible) ;  then  7  will  be  divided  into 
two  parts  fully  determined  by  the  position  of  the  two 
planes,  and  belonging,  the  one  to  a,  the  other  to  /3.  The 
geometry  of  concrete  objects  is  still  always  geometry. 
Or  I  say  12  —  7  =  5.  I  formulate  a  logical  relation 
between  concepts.  But  if  I  have  twelve  pennies  in  my 
pocket,  and  spend  seven  of  them,  it  is  certain  that  on 
counting  the  pennies  which  remain  I  shall  find  I  have 
five  exactly.  The  arithmetic  of  particular  concrete 
objects  is  still  always  arithmetic.  Naturally  for  arith- 
metic to  be  applicable  to  particular  concrete  objects, 
those  objects  must  satisfy  the  postulates  of  arithmetic. 
In  our  case,  the  pennies  must  be  invariable,  and  only  leave 
my  pocket  in  the  operation  considered.  The  application 
of  geometry  also  is  not  altogether  without  conditions, 
but  when  we  deal  with  external  reality  it  is  less  con- 
ditioned, as  external  reality  is  always  spatial. 

One  fact,  therefore,  may  be  the  logical  consequence 
of  another.  Since  that  is  so,  and  is  made  clear,  we 


Reality  and  Reason  199 

understand  the  reason,  absolutely  unexceptionable,  why 
one  fact  is  necessarily  followed  or  accompanied  by 
another.  We  understand  that  the  two  facts  (or  all 
those  between  which  there  is  a  relation  of  the  kind 
indicated)  can  be  reduced  in  the  end  to  one  and  the 
same  fact. 

But  the  connection  between  two  facts  is  not  always 
of  the  kind  indicated.  A  body  expands  when  heated. 
Why  ?  A  physical  law  is  a  judgment  which  falls  under 
the  dominion  of  logic,  like  every  other,  in  respect  of  its 
connections  or  relations.  But  we  ask  why  the  law  is 
valid,  why  the  judgment  is  true.  And  we  can  only 
answer  by  an  appeal  to  immediate  evidence,  as  for  the 
axioms,  and  not  with  an  apodeictic  proof,  as  for  the 
theorems.  The  law  uniting  temperature  and  volume  is 
not  the  same  for  every  body  and  not  even  for  the  same 
body  at  different  temperatures  (water  between  zero  and 
4°  Centigrade  contracts  when  heated).  To  understand 
its  reason,  we  must  know  much  more  than  we  do  about 
the  nature  of  bodies  and  heat.  Or  perhaps  no  know- 
ledge would  suffice.  The  laws  of  gravitation  are  valid 
apparently  for  all  bodies  under  all  circumstances.  They 
are  the  most  like  geometrical  laws  of  all  the  physical 
ones.  We  are  still  so  far  from  knowing  the  reason  of 
them  that  we  can  without  apparent  incongruity  suppose 
them  conditioned  or  approximate. 

Beyond  logical  laws  or  those  of  cognition,  intrinsic  to 
the  cognitive  activity,  which  the  cognitive  activity  can 
formulate  for  itself  without  regard  to  elements  of  fact, 
there  are  physical  laws,  or  laws  of  happening,  intrinsic 
to  an  activity  other  than  the  cognitive,  and  which  the 
cognitive  activity  must  derive  from  elements  of  fact. 
Psychological  laws  too,  although  different  from  physical 
laws,  are,  like  these,  distinct  from  logical  laws.  They 
also  are  laws  of  a  happening. 


2oo  The  Great  Problems 

Facts  are  causally  connected  with  one  another  in  so 
far  as  their  simultaneity  and  their  succession  are  regu- 
lated by  physical  or  psychological  laws.  In  physics  and 
in  psychology  we  cannot  neglect  the  consideration  of  a 
something  on  which  the  interference  of  facts,  or  rather 
happening,  depends — force  or  energy.  On  the  distinction 
between  these  concepts,  and  on  their  different  deter- 
mination according  as  we  speak  of  physical  or  psychical 
facts,  we  need  not  linger ;  but,  on  the  whole,  force  or 
energy  signify  together  reality  and  cause. 

One  fact  can  be  the  consequence  of  another  ;  it  can 
also  be  its  effect.  We  must  distinguish  between  these 
two  relations. 

VIII 

When  we  say  that  a  fact  A  is  the  cause  of  a  fact  B, 
we  mean  in  the  first  place  to  exclude  the  relation  be- 
tween the  two  facts  being  purely  logical.     B 

The  common  ITT          i  •   i 

conception  of  cannot  be  deduced  from  A  without  our  sup- 
posing certain  laws  which  are  laws  of  force  or 
energy,  not  merely  logical  but  causal.  Thus  the  con- 
cept of  cause  is  primitive ;  it  can  neither  be  eliminated 
nor  reduced  to  anything  else.  We  mean,  further,  that 
B,  although  it  cannot  be  deduced  as  above,  is  always 
realised  when  A  is  realised,  and  never  realised  when  A 
is  not  realised — certain  determinate  circumstances  being 
supposed.  This  condition  is  most  important.  In  fact,  it 
is  not  true  that  the  happening  of  A  is  a  necessary  and 
sufficient  condition  of  the  happening  of  B,  whatever  be 
the  circumstances.  A  sheet  of  glass  may  fly  to  pieces 
even  if  it  is  not  struck  by  a  stone  (for  instance,  from 
inequality  of  temperature  in  the  different  parts).  It 
may  escape  being  broken  even  if  struck  (supposing  the 
stone  to  have  very  slight  velocity).  Nevertheless  I  assert 
the  blow  of  the  stone  to  be  the  cause  of  the  breaking  ; 


Reality  and  Reason  201 

I  mean  that  in  those  circumstances  the  breaking  would 
cot  have  taken  place  without  the  blow  of  the  stone. 

In  substance,  when  we  assert  a  causal  connection 
between  two  (or  more)  facts,  we  assert  at  the  same  time, 
at  least  implicitly,  that  the  other  anterior  or  simul- 
taneous facts  have  no  causal  connection  with  the  group 
we  are  considering.  The  other  facts  might  also  have 
been  different  within  certain  limits  without  the  con- 
nection of  the  group  being  altered.  If  those  "  certain  " 
limits  (very  vaguely  conceived  as  a  rule)  had  been 
passed,  "  other  "  facts  also  would  have  taken  part  in  the 
process,  and  its  result  would  have  been  different.  But 
the  limits  would  have  been  changed,  not  suppressed.  In 
any  case  a  number  of  facts  would  have  remained  ex- 
traneous to  the  causal  process  under  consideration. 

The  common  concept  of  causal  connection  seems 
inseparable  from  that  of  disconnection.  It  will  be  well 
to  consider  this  point.  Let  us  suppose  that  all  varying 
can  be  reduced  to  the  eventual  verification  of  the  facts 
A  and  B.  If  A  happens,  it  is  always  followed  by  B. 
If  B  happens,  it  has  always  been  preceded  by  A.  A 
very  simple  induction  would  enable  us  to  recognise  at 
once  that  A  and  B  are  connected  by  a  fixed  law.  But 
we  must  take  account  of  the  variable  circumstances. 
Now  if  the  varying  of  the  circumstances  could  be 
reduced  to  the  happening  or  not  happening  of  a  third 
fact  C,  which  was  simple  like  A  arid  B,  an  induction 
scarcely  more  complex  than  the  preceding  would  enable 
us  to  recognise  if  a  variation  of  the  nexus  AB  follows 
or  not  on  the  appearance  of  C.  But  instead  of  this, 
circumstances  vary  infinitely.  We  are  very  for  from 
knowing  them  all ;  we  are  only  sure  that  the  same 
circumstances  are  never  repeated.  Hence  we  could 
not  arrive  at  anything,  if  we  did  not  make,  so  to  speak, 
one  bundle  of  all  except  a  few,  considering  them,  though 


2O2  The  Great  Problems 

variable,  altogether  inefficacious  and  unconnected  with 
the  happening  under  consideration,  as  contrasted  with 
those  few  which  we  take  into  account.  If  what  happens 
in  the  farthest  spaces  of  the  heavens,  or,  for  the  matter 
of  that,  within  two  paces  of  me,  with  the  exception  of  a 
few  facts,  could  have  influence  or  not  on  the  breaking  of 
my  window  pane,  I  could  know  nothing  of  the  causes  to 
which  to  refer  the  breaking  of  the  pane. 

The  distinction  between  the  concepts  of  logical  and 
causal  connection,  and  the  inseparability  or  correla- 
tivity  of  the  concepts  of  causal  connection  and  dis- 
connection, enable  us  to  understand  the  origin  of  the 
concept  of  "  force,"  so  obscure  and  nevertheless  essential 
to  that  of  cause,  or  one  with  it.  They  help  us  to 
understand  how  we  have  come  to  conceive  of  reality 
as  an  aggregate  of  things,  independent  among  them- 
selves, except  in  so  far  as  one  eventually  exercises  its 
"  force  "  on  another. 

Two  bodies  move,  one  here,  the  other  yonder — each  on 
its  own  account,  quite  independently.  There  is  nothing 
yet  to  distinguish  the  two  movements  as  real  from  the 
movements  represented  or  thought  of  two  geometrical 
solids.  But  in  virtue  of  their  movements,  the  two 
bodies  tend  to  occupy  the  same  space.  This  is  im- 
possible, for  the  bodies  are  real — that  is,  impenetrable. 
Therefore  a  physical  collision  follows  the  geometrical 
contact.  Both  bodies  cannot  continue  to  move  in- 
dependently as  before  ;  the  one  disturbs  the  other  in  a 
way  which  will  depend  on  the  nature  of  the  bodies ; 
latent  forces  are  let  loose,  energies  are  transformed. 
Something  new,  no  matter  what,  is  produced — produced 
by  the  accidental  interference  of  elements  which  are 
essentially  unconnected,  as  in  general  we  consider  all 
the  elements  of  the  universe  unconnected,  unless  there 
is  immediate  evidence  of  their  connection. 


Reality  and  Reason  203 


IX 

This  fragmentary  conception  of  reality  and  happening 
—a  conception  of  which  atomism  constitutes  the  most 
rigid  expression — is  not  confirmed  by  experi- 

XT  •           -IT  i     T  i  Logical  unity 

ence.    JMo  servant-girl  will  believe  that  to  make  and  multi- 
water  boil — the  same  quantity  of  water,  at 
the  same  initial  temperature,  placed  in  the  same  kettle 
on  the  same  stove — a  little  more  coal  is  required  on  the 
ground  floor  than  in   the  attics,  and  that  the  boiling 
water  has  in  the  first  case  a  slightly  higher  temperature  ; 
and  yet  it  is  true.     Galileo  never  suspected  that  the 
oscillations    of    the     same    pendulum     have    different 
durations   in    different   places    (at  different   latitudes) ; 
and  yet  it  is  true. 

No  facts  happen  which  can  strictly  be  called  in- 
dependent. Yet  it  is  true  that  all  facts  are  not  con- 
nected in  the  same  way.  We  say  that  the  facts  of  one 
group  are  causally  connected  with  one  another  and 
unconnected  with  facts  not  belonging  to  the  group. 
Exactly  so,  the  connections  between  facts  of  the  group 
are  manifest  to  anyone  who  has  sense  and  reason, 
whereas  the  connections  with  external  facts  only  become 
manifest  after  delicate  observations  and  reasonings  of 
exceptional  power. 

The  orbits  described  by  the  planets  of  the  solar 
system  can  be  considered  independent  of  one  another 
with  an  excellent  approximation  within  certain  limits 
of  time.  Taking  into  account  their  mutual  dependence 
and  regarding  them  as  independent  of  every  happening 
external  to  the  system,  wo  have  a  much  closer  approxi- 
mation, on  which  at  present  we  cannot  improve.  The 
attractions  of  the  stars  on  those  planets  cannot  be 
calculated,  and  they  do  not  give  rise  to  observable 


204  The  Great  Problems 

disturbances,  but  no  one  doubts  that  they  exercise  some 
slight  influence  capable  of  being  observed  in  time. 

Many  actions — or  their  variations — remain  unnoticed, 
not  only  because  they  are  slight,  but  because  they 
require  time,  sometimes  a  very  long  time,  to  propagate 
themselves.  Light,  rapid  as  it  is,  takes  perhaps  thou- 
sands of  years  to  reach  us  from  certain  stars.  There 
is  therefore  a  two-fold  reason  why  certain  groups  of 
facts  appear  to  us  independent.  The  disturbance  in 
one  group  which  follows  that  in  another  is  often  un- 
observably  small,  and  occurs  too  late  for  us  to  refer 
it  to  its  true  cause. 

Moreover,  the  fact  of  time  being  needed  for  the 
disturbances  to  react  from  group  to  group  seems  to 
exclude  the  idea  of  the  facts  constituting  a  system 
which  is  truly  one.  We  have  a  bar  of  steel  of  convenient 
length.  We  strike  it  at  one  end  with  a  hammer,  the 
blow  being  in  the  direction  of  its  length,  and  strong 
enough  to  determine  a  displacement  of  the  bar.  A 
time  will  pass,  measurable  though  short,  between  the 
striking  of  the  blow  and  the  movement  of  the  other 
end  of  the  bar  becoming  noticeable.  This  proves  that 
the  bar  is  not  absolutely  rigid,  is  not  strictly  of  one 
piece  like  a  geometrical  solid.  In  a  geometrical  solid, 
a  movement  impressed  on  one  point  would  not  be 
followed  afterwards  by  a  movement  of  the  whole  body  ; 
it  would  have  the  movement  of  the  whole  body  for 
immediate,  necessary  consequence. 

Analogously  (we  may  say)  if  facts  constituted  a  real 
and  true  unity,  the  disturbances  would  not  take  time  to 
propagate  themselves  from  group  to  group  ;  but  a  disturb- 
ance in  one  group  would  have  for  immediate  necessary 
consequence  the  disturbance  of  every  other.  It  would 
not  produce,  it  would  lie  the  disturbance  of  every  other. 

Certainly  the  fact  that  time  is  required  for  the  dis- 


Reality  and  Reason  205 

turbances  to  be  propagated  proves  that  the  groups  of 
facts  and  the  single  facts  are  distinct  realities.  This 
is  evident  by  itself.  The  world  which  appears  to  the 
subject,  the  subject  to  which  the  world  appears  and 
which  is  also  an  element  of  the  world,  are  not  illusions ; 
they  are  reality.  I  who  write,  the  pen  with  which 
and  the  paper  on  which  I  write,  my  writing,  are  ele- 
ments of  fact,  distinct  and  different,  which  cannot  be 
reduced  to  a  unity  if  the  reduction  signifies  the  abolition 
of  the  distinction  and  diversity.  We  are  dealing  not 
with  abolition,  but  with  comprehension.  We  say  that 
the  distinctions  and  the  connections  which  we  observe, 
considered  as  we  observe  them,  the  contents  and  facts 
of  the  subjective  personal  consciousness,  would  become 
just  so  many  absurdities  if  we  did  not  admit  that 
they  form  a  true  organic  unity  without  losing  anything 
of  their  observed  distinctions.  The  reality  of  the  dis- 
tinct facts  requires  that  the  whole  cannot  be  reduced 
to  a  simple  chaotic  aggregate  of  them — it  requires  the 
whole  to  be  one.  But  the  whole,  being  the  unity  of 
distinct  objects,  requires  in  its  turn  the  several  distinct 
objects.  Thus,  for  instance,  the  facts  of  my  conscious 
life  (I  am  speaking  of  facts  exclusively  mine)  would 
not  happen  if  I  did  not  exist,  and  conversely  I  should 
not  exist  if  they  did  not  happen.  The  impossibility 
of  reducing  me  to  an  aggregate  of  feelings,  volitions, 
recollections,  &c.,  does  not  suppress  the  distinctions 
between  these  facts— it  justifies  them  and  presupposes 
them.  The  unity  of  the  universe  does  not  exclude 
an  infinite  intrinsic  variety.  The  unity  of  the  real 
universe,  which  includes  time  and  happening,  must  not 
be  confounded  with  the  unity  of  space.  Yet  space  also, 
though  one,  or  rather  because  it  is  one,  implies  the 
infinite  variety  of  figures,  which  in  their  turn  imply 
the  unity  of  space. 


2o6  The  Great  Problems 


X 

The  common  opinion  that  causal  connections  are 
not  essential  to  things  and  facts,  but  accidental  and 

violent — understood  as  it  is  commonly  under- 
Logical  pre-  .  J 
suppositions     stood    by  ordinary  people — is   not  an    error. 

of  causality.  ?          \         \  •    j  j      ±t 

Ihe  water  01  a  brook  runs  independently 
of  everything  else  if  a  stone  does  not  roll  in  or  is  not 
thrown  into  its  bed  so  as  to  do  it  an  evidently  accidental 
violence.  The  ordinary  man  does  not  construct  a  meta- 
physical or  natural  philosophy.  His  judgments  have 
no  function  other  than  to  formulate  distinctions,  and 
they  are  true  provided  that  the  distinctions  formulated 
are  distinctions  of  fact.  It  is  we  who  commit  the  error 
if  without  criticism  we  attribute  a  doctrinal  value  to 
the  judgments  of  the  ordinary  man  which  in  his  intention 
are  only  simple  descriptions  and  statements  of  a  practical 
character. 

In  the  world  things  exist  and  facts  occur  which  can 
be  distinguished.  They  are,  therefore,  so  many  distinct 
phenomena,  and  have  a  certain  mutual  independence. 
In  so  far  as  one  thing  is  not  another,  and  one  fact  is  not 
another,  in  so  far  as  each  thing  and  each  fact  has  some- 
thing of  its  own,  it  constitutes  up  to  a  certain  point 
something  individual.  A  thing  exists,  a  fact  happens, 
let  other  things  and  facts  be  what  they  will.  The 
causal  connections,  the  mutual  interfering,  conditioning, 
changing,  and  determining,  are,  in  relation  to  each 
thing  and  each  fact  as  something  individual,  an  accident, 
a  violence  that  conies  from  without. 

This  also  requires  time  to  eifect  and  propagate  itself. 
As  far  as  A  and  B  are  in  a  certain  sense — that  is,  under 
a  certain  aspect — independent,  it  is  clear  that  they  will 
not  modify  each  other  if  they  do  not  pass  from  the  con- 


Reality  and  Reason  207 

dition  of  independence  to  that  of  interference ;  if  they 
do  not,  for  instance,  come  in  contact,  and  this  requires 
time.  B,  being  modified  in  sequence  to  having  inter- 
fered with  A,  will  modify  C,  if  it  interferes  with  it, 
otherwise  than  it  would  have  done  if  it  had  not  been 
modified.  There  will  be  in  the  interference  BC  a 
trace  of  the  preceding  interference  AB,  and  so  on. 

The  interference  AB  will  in  the  end  have  some 
reaction,  however  slight,  on  every  thing  and  every  fact. 
But  this  will  need  time — a  very  long  time.  And  the 
fact  that  time  is  required,  in  order  that  the  disturbances 
or  the  changes  due  to  interferences  may  be  propagated, 
implies — as  we  have  noted — that  distinct  phenomena, 
partially  observed  by  us  with  more  or  less  accuracy,  are 
real,  and  have  a  relative  independence,  that  the  universe 
is  not  so  much  "one"  as  to  exclude  all  intrinsic  multi- 
plicity. 

All  this  is  beyond  question.  But  a  question  arises 
which  the  average  man  neglects,  and  the  physicist  and 
the  psychologist  can  also  neglect  to  a  certain  extent,  but 
we  must  study  it  if  we  wish  to  arrive  at  a  conception 
of  the  universe.  Interference  supposes  real  distinct 
phenomena  which  interfere.  In  so  far  as  the  elements 
which  interfere  are  real  and  distinct,  the  interference  is 
not  essential  to  the  elements  themselves.  It  is  there- 
fore accidental,  violent.  But  would  it  be  possible,  if  the 
elements  between  which  it  takes  place  were  not  bound 
together  by  essential  relations  other  than  those  deter- 
mined and  produced  by  the  interference  ? 

Suppress  distinction  or  declare  it  illusory,  and  you 
will  have  suppressed  interference.  But  suppose  distinc- 
tion to  be  clear-cut  and  absolute — make  of  every  thing 
and  every  group  of  facts  as  it  were  a  world  in  itself, 
which  can  exist  and  vary  according  to  certain  laws  of  its 
own,  exclusively  intrinsic,  peculiar  to  it,  outside  every- 


208  The  Great  Problems 

thing  else,  outside  every  other  group  of  facts — you  will 
then  have  suppressed  interference  also.  Or,  rather,  you 
will  have  suppressed  distinction  by  exaggerating  it.  In 
fact,  distinction  also  is  a  fact  of  interference.  Certain 
elements  A,  B,  C  .  .  .  Monte  Mario,  the  house,  a 
friend,  the  sound  of  a  bell,  the  variation  of  the  tem- 
perature and  the  light, — I  can  distinguish  them  all  from 
one  another  and  from  myself.  Could  I  distinguish  them 
if  they  were  not  all  included,  even  if  not  entirely  so,  in 
the  unity  of  my  consciousness  ?  In  so  far  as  I  am  con- 
scious (we  should  come  to  the  same  results  if  we  took 
account  also  of  unconsciousness),  I  am  that  particular 
unity  of  consciousness,  a  unity  which  is  not  separable 
from  the  elements  of  which  it  is  the  unity.  I  am  there- 
fore, though  not  exclusively,  A,  B,  C  .  .  .  and  neverthe- 
less I  distinguished  A,  B,  C  .  .  .  from  one  another  and 
from  myself.  ' '  Nevertheless  "  ?  Nay,  for  that  very  reason . 
If  A,  B,  C  .  .  .  were  absolutely  distinct  from  me,  were  a 
world  apart  from  that  other  world,  myself,  they  would 
not  be  constituents  of  rny  consciousness,  of  me.  I  should 
not  distinguish  them,  nor  should  I  myself  be  what  I  am. 
Distinction  is  neither  illusory  nor  absolute.  It  exists  in 
so  far  as  it  is  not  absolute,  and  it  is  not  absolute  in  so  far 
as  it  exists.  Real  interference  presupposes  at  one  time 
both  the  reality  of  the  distinction,  and  that  the  distinc- 
tion is  distinction  only,  and  not  clear-cut  separation,  full 
and  absolute  independence. 

Let  us  see  how  these  conclusions  are  confirmed  by  a 
summary  examination  of  mechanical  happening. 


XI 

Every  body  has  shape,  extension,  and  position.  All 
this  presupposes  space — all  space,  not  only  that  which 
is  occupied  by  the  body  ;  space  which  is  the  same  for 


Reality  and  Reason  209 

every  body  and  essentially  one.  We  have  already  noted 
that  space  and  time  imply  and  express  a  certain  unity  of  the 
universe,  and  that  the  unity  of  each  excludes 

•/  Essential 

the  clear-cut  separation,  the  absolute  mutual   relativity  of 

the  distinct 

independence,  of  bodies  and  of  facts.  But  the  concrete 
essential  relations  established  by  space  and 
time  are  relations  between  abstract  characteristics  of 
reality ;  it  is  not  quite  clear  how  they  are  relations  be- 
tween realities  qua  realities.  Causal  connections  are 
characteristics  of  reality.  While  these  in  their  self- 
realisation  confuse,  so  to  speak,  what  was  distinct,  sup- 
press certain  distinctions  and  produce  others,  and,  in 
short,  make  out  of  distinct  phenomena  a  unity  which 
goes  beyond  the  distinctions,  on  the  other  hand  they 
presuppose  a  unity  underlying  the  distinctions — a  unity 
which  is  not  due  to  the  causal  connections  but  is  a 
condition  of  them,  a  unity  essential  and  fundamental. 

A  body  moves  independently  (as*  it  appears)  of 
every  other.  It  moves  in  a  straight  line  with  constant 
velocity.  For  the  motion  to  be  real,  the  moving 
object  must  be  real,  and  not  merely  have  the  geo- 
metrical properties,  form,  extension,  and  (variable) 
position,  but  also  a  mass.  A  determinate  mass  moves 
with  a  determinate  velocity ;  i.e.  a  certain  quantity  of 
kinetic  energy  exists,  a  cause  capable  of  producing  an 
effect. 

Capable  of  producing  it,  therefore  essentially,  neces- 
sarily, relative  to  something  else.  For  any  element 
whatever,  A,  in  so  far  as  it  is  considered  by  itself,  may 
well  possess  a  capacity  of  preserving  or  modifying  itself, 
but  never  that  of  producing  any  external  effect.  (We 
do  not  dwell  on  the  absurdity  of  considering  an  element 
by  itself.  The  act  of  considering  supposes  a  subject 
that  considers  and  an  object  that  is  considered,  and 
establishes,  if  it  does  not  presuppose,  a  relation  between 

o 


2io  The  Great  Problems 

them.)  The  capacity  of  producing  an  external  effect 
implies  something  external  on  which  the  effect  is  pro- 
duced. The  assertion,  "  A  moving  mass  constitutes  an 
energy"  implies  this  other,  "  The  existence  of  one  moving 
mass  only  is  absurd." 

It  will  be  answered,  perhaps,  that  the  energy  con- 
stituted by  masses  in  motion  is  an  intrinsic  capacity  of 
the  mass.  Movement,  in  fact,  perpetuates  itself.  But 
the  answer  is  insufficient,  for  two  reasons.  First,  the 
movement  always  perpetuates  itself,  whether  the  mass 
and  velocity  are  very  great  or  very  small.  Therefore 
it  is  absolutely  impossible  to  recognise  a  difference 
between  any  two  kinetic  energies  whatever,  each  con- 
sidered by  itself.  But  differences  are  recognised,  or 
mechanics  would  be  impossible.  Therefore  a  kinetic 
energy  is  never  considered  by  itself,  not  even  when  we 
think  it  is  so  (saying,  the  energy  is  so  and  so  inde- 
pendent of  every  other). 

Secondly,  the  movement  of  a  mass  cannot  be  only 
capable  of  preserving  itself.  For  then  the  movement 
of  one  mass  would  never  be  capable  of  modifying  that  of 
another.  And  the  accidental  or  violent  interference,  from 
whose  characteristics  we  pretend  to  infer  the  absolute 
independence  of  distinct  objects,  would  be  impossible. 

Ant  .  .  .  a>d:  either  two  kinetic  energies  can  interfere, 
or  they  cannot.  If  they  cannot,  let  us  close  this  book, 
and  every  other  ;  let  us  not  speak  of  the  universe,  or 
of  things  or  single  facts,  of  reality  or  of  illusions.  Let 
us  cease  to  observe  and  to  think.  If  they  can,  then 
each  kinetic  energy  is  intrinsically,  per  sc,  relative  to 
another,  to  something  else.  The  possibility  of  inter- 
ference is  not  a  product  of  the  conditions  (collision,  for 
instance)  which  occasion  the  actual  interference.  It  is 
something  presupposed,  without  whicli  the  conditions 
would  l)e  inefficacious.  Energies  which  can  interfere 


Reality  and  Reason  211 

are  not  elements,  each  of  which  has  a  separate  existence 
of  its  own.  One  exists  in  so  far  as  there  are  others,  in 
respect  of  which  it  is  energy. 

For  a  collision  to  take  place,  it  is  not  enough  that 
there  are  two  masses  in  motion  which  tend  in  virtue 
of  their  motions  to  occupy  simultaneously  the  same 
space.  The  masses  must  also  be,  at  least  to  a  certain 
extent,  impenetrable.  Is  it  necessary  to  say  that  im- 
penetrability— the  property  which  a  body  has  of  not 
admitting  other  bodies  into  its  space — is  essentially 
relative  ?  In  other  words,  that  to  say  "  A  body  is  in 
itself  impenetrable  (on  its  own  account)  "  is  as  sensible 
as  to  say  "Such  a  body  is  ten  yards  away,  not  from 
something  else,  but  from  itself.  This  distance  consti- 
tutes an  intrinsic  and  exclusive  property  of  its  own." 

Similarly,  a  body  has  a  temperature ;  that  is,  it 
determines  in  an  animal  an  impression  of  cold  or  heat, 
in  another  body  a  variation,  on  the  nature  of  which  we 
need  not  dwell,  but  which  in  its  turn  determines  a 
variation  of  volume.  If  we  make  abstraction  from  these 
or  other  such  external  effects  which  are  possible  (or 
rather  real  in  every  case),  no  meaning  can  possibly  be 
attached  to  the  word  temperature. 

It  is  useless  to  say  more.  All  that  we  can  know  or 
suppose  of  any  distinct  object  implies  always  some 
relation  which  it  has  with  something  else.  Distinct 
objects  exist,  but  each  presupposes  the  others,  and  all 
suppose  the  unity  of  the  whole.  Outside  this,  real 
distinct  objects,  causally  connected  with  one  another, 
are  no  longer  possible.  That  concept  of  a  distinct  object 
which  remains,  after  making  abstraction  from  the  unity, 
is  no  longer  the  concept  of  a  real  distinct  object.  It  is 
only  the  concept  of  one  of  its  characteristics  (that  of 
being  a  distinct  object)  which  is  really  inseparable  from 
the  others. 


212  The  Great  Problems 


XII 

Now  we  can    understand  with   some  clearness  the 
resemblance    and    difference   between    effect   and   con- 
sequence, and  form  a  first  concept  of  causality 
rationality       — which  is  as  much  as  to  say.  of  reality — a 

immanent  in  .  ,  .  J,         .     ,    _   J.      . 

the  distinct  concept,  that  is,  which  can  be  indetinitely 
improved  and  integrated,  which  is  nothing 
but  a  rough  sketch,  but  which  is  definite  in  its  outlines, 
however  insufficient  they  may  be.  The  general  outline 
that  a  painter  has  traced  of  a  portrait  is  not  the  com- 
pleted portrait,  but  is  an  element  of  it,  which  can  be 
completed  by  other  elements  but  cannot  be  abolished 
by  any. 

The  universe  includes  a  great — an  infinite — number 
of  particular  distinct  formations.  There  is  not — at  any 
rate  we  have  so  far  failed  to  discover — any  motive  for 
supposing  that  there  is  any  part  in  the  universe  not 
occupied  by  the  said  formations.1  Hence  it  would 
appear  that  we  ought  rather  to  say  that  the  universe 
consists  of  the  said  formations.  But  to  express  our- 
selves so  might  make  one  believe  that  the  universe,  in 
so  far  as  it  exists,  in  so  far  as  formations  exist,  is  an 
aggregate  of  formations,  as  a  wall  is  an  aggregate  of 
stones  to  whicli  the  existence  of  the  wall  is  not  essential ; 
whereas,  every  formation  presupposes  the  universe  of 
which  it  is  a  formation,  from  which  it  is  absolutely 
inseparable,  as  the  eddies  which  are  formed  in  a  river 
presuppose  the  river  and  are  inseparable  from  it.  They 
are  distinct  objects,  but  subordinate  to  the  whole  in 
which  they  are  included. 

1  This  spatial  language,  for  which  it  would  be  difficult  to  substitute  other 
terms,  must  not  make  us  suppose  that  the  universe  has  only  spatial 
characteristics. 


Reality  and  Reason  213 

Each  single  formation  is  a  fact  of  consciousness,  one 
of  those  facts  of  which  we  are  conscious,  or  in  any  case  a 
fact  of  which  we  might  be  conscious  if  we  lived  under 
different  conditions.  Reality  and  fact  of  consciousness 
are  the  same  as  far  as  we  have  seen.  Evidently  it  is 
not  necessary,  nor  even  conceivable,  that  each  formation 
must  be  included  in  some  particular  unity  of  conscious- 
ness, as  the  colours  are,  for  instance,  which  I  perceive. 
As,  however,  all  formations  are  facts  of  consciousness, 
their  unity — that  is  to  say,  the  universe — can  only  be  a 
kind  of  unity  of  consciousness. 

On  the  characteristics  of  this  superior  unity,  which 
for  the  present  we  will  call  the  One,  we  shall  say 
something  and  give  some  reasoned  account,  in  the 
following  chapter.  For  the  present  let  us  note  that  the 
fact  of  the  One  being  a  sort  of  unity  of  facts  of  con- 
sciousness does  not  imply  eo  ipso  that  the  One  is 
conscious  like  a  person  or  a  subject.  For  not  even  those 
facts  which  are  bound  together  in  the  unity  of  a 
particular  subject  are  all  bound  together  in  the  unity  of 
the  self-consciousness — some  subjects  are  not  conscious  of 
self  at  all — nor  yet  in  the  unity  of  consciousness  taken  in 
the  strictest  and  most  proper  sense.  Besides  the  unity  of 
consciousness  properly  so  called,  we  have  recognised  in 
a  subject  a  particular  unity  of  unconsciousness.  The 
constituent  unity  of  the  universe,  the  One,  might  rather 
be  comparable  to  a  subject's  unity  of  unconsciousness 
than  to  his  unity  of  consciousness.  Moreover,  we  cannot 
deny  the  essential  incongruity  of  all  such  comparisons. 

For  every  subject,  whether  considered  in  self-con- 
sciousness, in  consciousness,  or  in  unconsciousness,  is 
still  always  a  formation  of  the  One  and  in  the  One. 
Whereas  this  is  not  a  formation,  it  necessarily  includes 
itself,  but  neither  includes  nor  presupposes  anything 
else.  The  One  is  certainly  a  unity  of  facts  of  con- 


214  The  Great  Problems 

sciousnese,  but  might  well  not  be  a  unity  of  consciousness 
in  any  sense  analogous  to  that  which  the  phrase  has 
when  used  to  characterise  a  particular  subject. 

The  unity  of  the  One  does  not  exclude  the  multi- 
plicity of  the  formations — or,  rather,  it  includes  and 
requires  it  (as  the  unity  of  the  subject  includes  and 
requires  the  multiplicity  of  its  facts) — but  it  is  not  less 
strict  on  that  account ;  rather  it  is  stricter  than  the 
unity  of  the  subject.  This  is  a  point  which  has  been 
proved  too  often  for  it  to  be  convenient  to  insist  on  it 
again,  but  it  must  not  be  forgotten. 

The  formations,  as  included  in  the  One,  as  its  for- 
mations, have  all  something  in  common.  This  does  not 
imply  anything  mysterious,  but  simply  that  the  One 
underlies  each  of  them,  as  the  whole  its  parts.  Two 
eddies  in  a  river  have  in  common  that  they  are  eddies 
in  the  same  river.  But  the  mass  of  water  which  re- 
volves in  the  one  and  that  which  revolves  in  the  other 
are  not  a  mass  numerically  one,  whereas  the  One  is 
numerically  one. 

The  unity  of  the  One,  underlying  and  common  to 
all  the  formations,  gives  a  reason  for  what  we  recognise 
as  equal  or  identical  in  them.  Thus,  as  we  have  seen,  the 
unity  of  space  gives  a  reason  for  the  equality  between 
distinct  figures,  the  unity  of  time  for  the  equality  be- 
tween distinct  intervals,  and  analogously  in  all  cases 
without  its  being  necessary  to  go  into  more  minute 
particulars. 

Now,  what  is  common,  what  can  be  predicted  uni- 
vocally  of  as  many  concrete  objects  as  we  will,  is  the 
concept.  And  the  relations  between  concepts — relations 
which  in  the  personal  consciousness  are  rendered  explicit 
in  the  form  of  judgments — are  rational  truths.  There- 
fore the  One — the  reality  underlying  its  formations, 
their  essential  fundamental  constituent — is  on  that 


Reality  and  Reason  215 

account  a  reason  immanent  in  the  formations  themselves. 
Happening  obeys  and  signifies  rational  laws.  Rationality 
is  immanent  in  the  formations  of  the  One  qua  formations 
of  the  One.  We  are  not  treating  of  laws  which  make 
themselves  obeyed  and  valid  in  a  field  distinct  from  their 
own,  like  human  laws  by  which  wills  are  disciplined, 
though  perhaps  rebellious  and  indifferent.  Formations 
are  conformed  to  the  laws  because  to  their  existence  as 
formations  it  is  essential  that  they  should  be  conformed 
to  them. 

Being  intrinsically  one,  all  reason  is  immanent  in  each 
formation.  Hence  it  is  also  immanent  in  each  subject. 
The  distinctly  conscious  subject  can  render  the  reason, 
which  is  immanent  in  it,  distinct  and  explicit  in  its 
consciousness.  It  can  know.  From  this  an  immediate 
consequence  is  derived.  The  reason  that  we  give  ourselves 
of  facts  is  rigorously  one  with  that  which  is  immanent 
in  the  facts  or  by  which  the  facts  are  regulated. 

The  knowledge  that  each  of  us  can  obtain  for  himself 
is  always  limited,  partial,  and  fragmentary.  No  one  suc- 
ceeds in  rendering  fully  explicit  the  reason  implicit  in  his 
unconsciousness.  Reason,  in  fact,  is  rendered  explicit  in 
the  personal  consciousness  by  way  of  discourse,  and  to 
resolve  the  intrinsic  unity  of  reason  in  the  thread  of  a 
discourse  is  like  wishing  to  express  oneself  in  an  in- 
adequate language,  or  like  wishing  to  extract  the  root 
of  a  number  which  is  not  a  perfect  square.  But  the 
reason  which  becomes  explicit  in  consciousness  is  still 
always  reason.  Our  knowledge  therefore,  though  always 
necessarily  incomplete,  is  endlessly  capable  of  increase 
and  improvement.  Where  it  makes  a  step,  that  step  is 
definite.  We  do  not  arrive  at  truth  without  fatigue, 
but,  when  once  we  have  arrived  there,  it  is  truth  at  which 
we  have  arrived.  This  may  seem  a  play  upon  words, 
but  I  cannot  express  myself  otherwise. 


216  The  Great  Problems 


XIII 

Causal  connections  partly  require  and  partly  exclude 
the  idea  that  the  single  concrete  objects,  the  formations 
spontaneities  of  the  One,  constitute  a  rigorously  logical 


necessary 
elements  of 


variation.  How  are  we  to  escape  from  this  antinomy  ? 

There  is  only  one  way,  as  it  seems.  Besides  the 
variations  logically  determined  by  other  variations, 
there  must  be  those  which  are  not  determined  at  all, 
that  is,  which  have  no  logical  reason  in  others  —  varia- 
tions absolutely  initial.  That  variations  of  this  kind 
occur  is  proved  by  the  spontaneity  of  the  subject. 
Note  that  spontaneity  is  not  a  privilege  of  developed 
subjects.  Rather  it  seems  simpler  and  fuller,  the 
simpler  and  more  embryonic  the  subject  is.  Now 
everything  leads  us  to  believe  that  there  is  an  infinite 
number  of  these  embryonic,  primitive,  tiny  subjects. 
What  we  call  inert  matter  might  in  the  end  be  reduced 
to  an  aggregate  of  similar  subjects.  Evidently  a  subject 
reduced  to  this  its  most  simple  expression  has  very 
little  resemblance  to  a  man  or  even  to  a  brute.  Perhaps 
it  is  not  even  a  unity  of  consciousness,  but  only  a  unity 
of  unconsciousness,  a  unity  of  psychical  facts  which  are 
realised  outside  of  every  known  form  of  consciousness,1 
a  pure  centre  of  variation  whose  foundation  must  be 
sought  in  the  centre  itself. 

However  the  One  produces  in  itself  this  multitude 
of  centres  in  which  its  creative  virtue  participates  in 
some  way  in  a  very  limited  degree,  it  is  not  what  we  are 
seeking,  but  we  see  that  by  their  means  the  antinomy 
of  which  we  spoke  has  been  overcome. 

The  varying  of  a  centre  of  spontaneous  activity  is 

1  Consapevolezza. 


Reality  and  Reason  217 

certainly  neither  the  consequence  nor  the  effect  of 
another  variation,  or  it  would  not  be  a  spontaneous 
action.  This  varying  has  effects.  It  consists,  as  we 
noted  at  the  time,  in  interfering  with  other  analogous 
activities,  and  in  modifying  them  and  itself. 

The  interference — we  noted  this  also — would  not  be 
possible  if  the  spontaneous  variation  and  the  more  or 
less  spontaneous  one  with  which  it  interferes  were  not 
included  in  the  logical  unity  of  a  system.  Since, 
however,  the  interference  is  rendered  possible  by  such 
a  unity,  the  results,  or  let  us  say  the  consequences,  will 
be  determined  not  by  this  unity  alone,  i.e.  not  only  by 
the  rational  laws  which  constitute  it,  but  also  by  the 
characteristics  of  whichever  of  the  two  activities  is 
spontaneous  (of  both,  if  both  are  spontaneous) — char- 
acteristics which  have  their  root  in  the  spontaneity, 
not  in  the  logical  unity,  of  the  whole. 

Those  variations  which  are  logical  consequences  of 
other  variations  are  of  necessity  contemporaneous  with 
these.  More  exactly,  if  all  the  variations  were  the 
consequences  of  other  variations,  there  would  be  no 
successions ;  for  logic  is  outside  time.  Hence  there 
would  be  no  varying  at  all ;  for  a  varying  without  time 
is  a  contradiction  in  terms.  There  would  only  be  a 
logical  process  intrinsic  to  the  One,  or  rather  (because 
a  process  implies  time)  there  would  be  nothing  real  but 
a  motionless  system  of  logical  relations ;  happening 
would  be  reduced  to  an  illusion. 

Another  contradiction  in  terms  :  this  illusion  comes 
about  in  any  case,  whereas  it  ought  not  to  come  about 
according  to  the  premises,  and  on  the  supposition  that  all 
can  be  reduced  to  a  contemporaneous  system  of  logical 
relations,  an  illusory  happening  is  no  less  contradictory 
than  a  real  one. 

But  spontaneity  gives  rise  to  a  happening  which  is 


2i8  The  Great  Problems 

not  the  consequence  of  another  happening,  and  hence 
to  effects  which  certainly  would  not  be  realised  if  the 
elements  which  interfere  were  not  included  in  a  system 
of  logical  relations,  but  which  cannot  be  reduced  to 
simple  logical  consequences.  Therefore,  not  only  can 
these  happen  in  time,  but  they  cannot  happen  except 
in  time.  The  elements  A  and  B  interfere  because 
bound  together  by  necessary  logical  relations,  but  the 
one  is  A  and  the  other  B,  by  itself,  and  not  in  virtue  of 
logical  relations.  Each  tends  to  develop  itself  and 
overcome  the  obstacle  which  the  other  opposes  to  it  by 
means  of  those  relations.  Thus  each  becomes  more  or 
less  different  from  what  it  was.  Here  is  a  process  which 
undoubtedly  requires  time. 

From  this  a  notable  consequence  follows :  the  deter- 
mination of  facts  cannot  be  absolutely  rigorous.  There 
is  in  facts  an  element  of  determinism,  logical  relations 
without  which  no  causal  connection  would  be  possible. 
But  there  is  also  in  facts  a  non-logical,  indeterministic 
element — a  spontaneity  without  which  there  would  be 
no  happening.  Facts  are  connected  according  to  certain 
laws,  it  is  true,  since  they  are  connected  in  virtue  of 
those  laws ;  but  the  laws  which  render  possible  the 
interference  of  spontaneities  do  not  suppress  the  spon- 
taneities. They  determine,  so  to  speak,  a  circle  within 
which  a  point  must  fall,  leaving  it  to  the  spontaneities 
to  fix  the  exact  spot. 

The  spontaneity  of  the  centres  of  variation,  being  a 
condition  of  happening,  of  existence  in  time,  and  of  causal 
connection,  coincides  with  the  reality  of  the  centres  them- 
selves or  of  the  formations — in  other  words,  of  concrete 
objects.  This  result  confirms  that  already  obtained,  i.e. 
that  spontaneity  is  the  condition  or  fundamental  con- 
stituent of  the  reality  of  subjects.  And  indeed  a  subject 
does  not  differ  essentially  from  a  centre  of  variation. 


Reality  and  Reason  219 

To  many  the  non-logical  nature  of  the  centres  of 
variation  will  seem  paradoxical.  A  knowledge  which 
presumes  to  deal  with  something  non-logical  is  self- 
condemned,  there  being  necessarily  presupposed  a  logic, 
which  it  cannot  neglect  without  changing  its  nature 
and  failing  in  its  purpose. 

We  answer  in  the  first  place  that  centres  of  varia- 
tion are  not  at  all  illogical,  since  they  are  connected 
with  one  another  in  a  strictly  logical  system  of  relations. 
The  intrinsic  spontaneity  of  each  is  only  outside  logic, 
not  contrary  to  it.  Moreover,  it  always  expresses  itself 
in  a  field  dominated  by  logic,  whereas,  if  we  refuse  to 
admit  it,  we  fall  inevitably  into  the  absurdity  (illogical, 
not  merely  non-logical)  of  denying  happening. 

We  answer  secondly  that  spontaneity,  though  non- 
logical,  is  by  no  means  opposed  or  extraneous  to  what 
is  presupposed  by  knowledge. 

Knowledge  is,  in  fact,  a  product  of  the  spontaneity 
of  the  subject  who  knows,  a  spontaneity  which,  to 
produce  knowledge,  must  certainly  express  itself  agree- 
ably to  the  laws  of  logic,  but  which,  in  order  to  express 
itself  so,  must  first  of  all  exist.  And  it  must  be  spon- 
taneity. Whatever  formation  of  a  subject  was  not 
spontaneous  would  be  fatally  determinate,  and,  whatever 
it  was,  would  always  have  the  same  intrinsic  value— 
nil ;  it  would  not  be  knowledge.  Spontaneity  is  there- 
fore the  very  root  of  knowledge,  and  is  an  essential 
condition  of  it.  Hence  a  knowledge  which  deals  with 
spontaneity  does  not  contradict  its  own  presuppositions ; 
rather  it  remains  faithful  to  them,  and  confirms  them. 


CHAPTEE  VII 

BEING 


THERE  is  the  same  "something"  implicit  in  everything 
as  an  essential  constituent  of  it.  The  whole  of  it  is 
common  *n  everything,  for  it  is  absolutely  simple,  not 
^^^W  divisible  in  any  way  or  under  any  aspect, 
everything  Conversely,  everything  is  implicit  in  it.  The 

and  included  i_  •         »  i     •  • 

in  every-  "something,  being  a  rigorous  unity,  involves 
a  multiplicity. 

A  word  which  I  speak  is  perceived  at  the  same 
time  by  a  hundred  persons.  The  word  is  one,  and  is 
at  the  same  time  a  hundred  words  in  the  ears,  in  the 
distinct  consciousness,  of  the  hundred  hearers.  Suppress 
that  one  word  and  you  will  have  suppressed  the  hundred. 
The  existence  of  the  latter  is  only  the  existence  of  the 
former.  Conversely,  that  one  word  would  not  be  what 
it  is,  would  not  exist,  if  it  were  not  perceivable  by  those 
hundred  persons,  by  any  number  of  persons  who  happen 
to  be  in  certain  conditions.  The  multiplicity  supposes 
the  unity,  and  the  unity  seems  to  suppose  the  multi- 
plicity. 

The  simile *  is  in  truth  powerfully  suggestive.  But 
is  the  doctrine  true  which  is  summarised  or  indicated 
by  it,  and  which  is  in  substance  far  from  new  ?  Many 
will  regard  it  as  not  even  intelligible.  The  concept 
which  we  have  reached  is  not  one  of  those  which  common 
thought  recognises  in  itself  clearly  and  explicitly. 

1  Giordano  Bruno's. 


Being  221 

The  knowledge  of  the  average  educated  man  who 
has  not  studied  philosophy  is  fragmentary.  But  with 
all  that,  it  is  knowledge.  It  permits  him  to  raise  him- 
self above  the  brute,  to  construct  in  time  a  civilisation 
and  also  a  philosophy.  But  it  does  not  constitute  a 
coherent  whole  with  no  essential  lacunae,  because  it- 
does  not  contain  explicitly  the  principle  of  unity  which 
makes  it  one  connected  whole,  a  principle  which  is 
also  the  reason  of  its  possibility. 

Philosophy  in  discovering  this  principle  necessarily 
goes  beyond  fragmentary  knowledge.  It  puts  in  evid- 
ence a  knowledge  different  altogether  from  the  know- 
ledge of  the  man  who  thinks  in  the  ordinary  way. 
Therefore  it  cannot  but  make  on  such  a  man  an  im- 
pression of  strangeness  and  paradox.  We  must  learn 
to  adapt  ourselves  to  the  apparent  paradox.  It 
is  unreasonable  to  expect  that  the  simple  reading  of 
a  book — a  reading  perhaps  hasty  and  inattentive — 
should  change  our  mental  habits.  One  who  has  no 
practice  in  book-keeping  may  fail  to  understand  a  ledger, 
but  this  proves  nothing  against  book-keeping.  Sub- 
jective failure  to  understand  due  to  lack  of  familiarity— 
which  can  be  overcome  by  study  and  in  no  other  way- 
must  not  be  confounded  with  incurable  intrinsic  objec- 
tive obscurity,  with  lack  of  meaning.  It  does  not 
constitute  a  serious  objection.  We  have  a  right  to 
claim  of  Philosophy,  not  that  it  should  say  easy  and 
obvious  things,  but  that  it  should  prove  what  it  does 
say.  To  say  ''Explain  yourself;  I  do  not  understand 
you,"  is  to  give  a  more  than  sufficient  answer  to  one 
who  contents  himself  with  making  assertions.  But  when 
faced  with  rigorous  demonstrations,  we  must  either 
refute  or  accept  them. 

We  have  been  led  to  the  unity  which  is  at  the  same 
time  multiplicity,  which  includes  the  many  and  is  at  the 


222  The  Great  Problems 

same  time  included  by  each  of  the  many,  by  a  process 
free  from  implications  and  presuppositions — a  process 
which  can  be  reduced  to  rendering  all  implications 
explicit  and  eliminating  all  presuppositions  which  are 
unjustified  or  absurd,  to  rendering  the  fact  of  knowledge 
intelligible  by  recognising  the  necessity  implicit  in  it. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  result  we  have  obtained  is  by 
no  means  at  variance  with  ordinary  thinking,  or  rather 
it  is  a  perfectly  simple  and  well-known  element  of  it ; 
albeit  an  element  which,  outside  philosophic  reflection, 
appears  dispersed  in  the  individual  cognitions.  The 
fact  of  its  being  so  dispersed  is  an  obstacle  to  its  being 
apprehended  and  its  character  and  value  becoming 
recognised.  In  fact,  we  say  of  everything  in  particular 
that  it  "  is."  Is  this,  or  is  it  not,  a  recognition  that 
Being  includes  all  things,  and  everything  includes 
Being  ? 

II 

But  an  objection  presents  itself. 

"  The  Being  of  which  we  speak  at  any  time,  in 
whatever  connection,  is  simply  a  concept.  We  place 
whether  the  all  things  in  the  class  of  Beings.  Therefore, 
Bedngis °l  when  we  say  Being  we  do  nothing  more  than 
express  the  means  we  make  use  of  to  arrange 
concrete  objects.  To  every  element  of  fact  which  we 
apprehend  we  suddenly  apply  the  mark  of  Being.  This 
has  no  meaning  of  its  own,  and  only  represents  our  way 
of  apprehending  what  is  given,  the  first  step  in  that 
vast  and  varied  process  of  classification  of  which  our 
knowledge  consists.  We  are  so  constituted  that  our 
thinking  and  knowing  can  be  reduced  to  our  making 
and  applying  a  complex  of  marks  of  which  the  first  and 
most  generic  is  that  of  Being.  Being,  therefore,  is  only 
a  function  of  the  knowing  subject." 


Being  223 

The  doctrine  is  true,  provided  that  we  do  not 
misinterpret  it.  The  knowing  subject  is  certainly  a 
particular  subject,  a  person.  We  ask,  "Is  the  Being 
which  is  constructed,  thought  by  him,  something  ex- 
clusively peculiar  to  the  person  who  constructs  it,  who 
thinks  it?"  In  other  words,  "Are  the  Being  thought 
by  the  subject  A  and  the  Being  thought  by  the  subject 
B  two  things,  distinct  though  the  same  ? "  As,  for 
instance,  these  two  balls,  though  so  similar  that  they 
can  only  be  distinguished  by  their  different  positions, 
are  two,  as  distinct  as  Titius  from  Sempronius. 

To  answer  "  Yes "  is  equivalent  to  accepting  solip- 
sism, for  the  same  reason  by  which  we  deduce  solipsism 
from  the  hypothesis  that  the  content  of  sensation,  the 
sense-percept,  is  exclusively  peculiar  to  that  subject  in 
whose  consciousness  it  is  included. 

A  subject  in  perceiving  by  the  senses  either  includes 
in  its  consciousness  a  sense-perceivable  of  which  every 
other  subject  can  become,  and  in  many  cases  is,  con- 
scious, or  it  only  apprehends  a  fact  exclusively  its  own. 
In  the  first  case,  the  sense-perceivable  perceived  being 
common,  the  subjects,  as  sentient,  live  in  the  same  reality 
of  which  their  bodies  form  a  part,  and  each  subject  appre- 
hends the  existence  of  other  subjects.  In  the  second, 
each  subject  is  enclosed  in  itself  without  possible  escape, 
and  the  fact  that  each  represents  others  to  itself  only 
proves  the  existence  in  it  of  certain  representations 
analogous  to  those  which  it  has  of  its  own  body — this, 
and  nothing  else. 

Similarly,  a  subject,  in  asserting  existence,  either 
acquires  explicit  consciousness  of  a  characteristic  common 
to  things  (including  among  them  subjects),  a  character- 
istic which  can  become  explicit  in  the  consciousness  of 
any  other  subject — or  only  applies  to  the  rjiven  fact  a 
characteristic  of  his  own  exclusive  construction.  Sub- 


224  The  Great  Problems 

jects,  as  knowing,  in  the  first  case  know  one  and  the 
same  reality,  of  which  they  themselves  form  a  part ; 
in  the  second  case,  they  are  enclosed  each  in  itself 
without  possible  escape.  My  assertion  or  knowledge 
that  other  subjects  exist  has  this  meaning  only,  that 
there  exist  in  me  representations  analogous  to  those 
which  I  have  of  myself.  To  affirm  with  reason  that 
besides  the  "existence"  constructed  by  me  there  is 
another  like  it  constructed  by  another  subject,  I  must 
be  conscious  also  of  this  other  existence.  Now  this 
cannot  be,  if  the  existence  of  which  a  subject  is 
conscious  is  a  mark  of  its  own  exclusive  construction. 

To  know  that  another  subject  exists,  I  must  have 
the  means  of  passing  beyond  myself — beyond  my  own 
exclusive  individuality.  This  means  must  be  mine, 
that  is,  must  be  included  in  the  unity  of  my  individual 
consciousness.  For  anything  which  does  not  belong 
to  me,  which  is  not  mine  in  the  aforesaid  sense,  is 
for  me  as  if  it  did  not  exist — at  least  until  I  have 
the  means  of  arriving  at  it,  and  therefore  it  cannot 
constitute  the  means  of  which  we  are  speaking.  But 
it  must  not  be  exclusively  mine.  For  something  ex- 
clusively mine  would  not  allow  me  to  go  beyond 
myself.  If  I  wish  to  move  from  the  place  where  I 
am,  I  must  find  a  point  of  support  outside  myself. 

The  means  is,  as  is  well  known,  constituted  by  the 
concept  of  Being.  In  fact,  I  know  that  the  other 
subject  is  not  illusory  in  so  far  as  I  know  that  the 
other  subject  exists.  Therefore  the  concept  of  Being? 
mine  in  so  far  as  included  in  the  unity  of  my  con- 
sciousness, is  not  exclusively  mine.  It  is,  if  we  like, 
a  product  of  activity,  which  expresses  itself  according 
to  certain  laws,  a  product  of  the  subject,  but  a  pro- 
duct numerically  one  for  all  knowing  subjects  without 
exception. 


Being  225 


III 

Certainly  Being  is  not  something  which  I  apprehend 
like  a  given  fact.     It  is  what  I  say  or  think  explicitly 
or    implicitly   of   everything,    a    thought    of  identity  of 
mine — a   form,    that    is,    of   my   activity   as   tSSgiitand 
thinker   or   knower.     But   that   of  which   I    asreal 
render  myself  conscious  by  the  exercise  of  my  activity 
as  thinker  and  knower — by  the  very  explicit  conscious- 
ness which  I  have  of  it — is  revealed  to  me  as  some- 
thing  which    cannot    be    exclusively   enclosed    in    the 
field    of   my   individual    consciousness.     It   would   not 
be  what  it  is  in  my  consciousness  if  it  were  not  the 
same  and  numerically  one  also  outside  it  and  every- 
where. 

Being  is  one  of  my  concepts,  i.e.  it  is  the  meaning, 
the  value,  which  the  word  "  Being "  has  for  me  when 
I  use  it  significantly.  But  it  is  at  the  same  time  a 
characteristic  common  to  every  subject  and  to  every- 
thing that  is  or  can  be  included  in  the  consciousness 
of  any  subject  whatever.1 

To  say  that  a  thinker  has  the  concept  of  Being 
means  nothing  else  than  that  that  thinker  has  explicit 
in  his  personal  consciousness  the  element  or  character- 
istic common  to  everything.  And  the  element  common 
to  everything  cannot  be  other  than  what  the  same 
element  is  in  the  consciousness  of  any  thinker  what- 
soever. We  should  not  think  existence  if  what  we 
are  conscious  of  when  we  do  so  were  not  existence. 

Being,   therefore,   is    the    thought?  but  not  the  act 

1  It  should  be  noticed  that  when  we  say  that  Being  is  (1)  a  concept 
common  to  every  thinker,  and  (2)  a  characteristic  or  element  common  to 
everything  (and  to  every  subject),  we  are  saying  the  same  thing  in  dif- 
ferent words. 

3  II  purisato. 

P 


226  The  Great  Problems 

of  thinking.  This  act  also  certainly  exists,  but  it  is 
not  Being  simply — it  does  not  exhaust  it.  There  is 
the  act  with  which  Titius  thinks  Being,  and  the  act 
with  which  Caius  thinks  it,  real  and  similar  (because 
they  have  something  in  common),  but  distinct.  Facts 
happen  whereby  Being  comes  to  be  included  in  the 
personal  consciousnesses  of  Titius  and  Caius,  and  which, 
by  happening,  make  those  personal  consciousnesses  to 
be.  But  Being  cannot  be  reduced  to  those  facts,  nor 
is  it  constituted  by  them.  Otherwise,  Being  for  Titius 
would  be  quite  distinct  from  Being  for  Caius.  It  could 
not  be  one  and  the  same  thing  for  Titius  and  for 
Caius.  Being  is  not  the  act  of  thinking,  but  the 
thought1 — the  thought,1  but  not  as  thought  in  this  or 
that  act,  not  as  included  in  this  or  that  personal  con- 
sciousness— that  which  can  be  thought  both  by  Titius 
and  by  Caius,  which  does  not  depend,  therefore,  at 
all  on  the  fact  that  Titius  or  Caius  thinks  it  (or  that 
he  exists) — the  thinkable. 

Naturally  the  thought  and  the  thinkable  are  all  one. 
Who  would  say  that  the  thought  is  not  thinkable,  that 
thinking  is  not  thinking  the  thinkable  ?  I  spend  a  coin. 
The  coin  which  I  spent  was  spendable.  To  suppose  that 
the  coin  spent  and  the  spendable  one  are  not  the  same 
coin  is  nonsense.  For  all  that,  the  coin  is  spendable 
even  if  I  do  not  spend  it,  even  if  I  do  not  possess  it  and 
do  not  exist. 

The  two  doctrines,  that  Bein^  is  a  characteristic  or 

O 

element  common  to  things,  that  it  is  a  subjective  form 
of  cognition — so  different  in  appearance — interpreted  as 
they  should  be  in  order  to  be  intelligible,  in  order  riot  to 
render  absurd  the  cognition  for  which  they  are  meant  to 
account,  are  rigorously  identical. 

In  fact  (if  what  has  already  been  said  is  not  enough) 

1    II  punsato. 


Being  227 

the  activity,  which  produces  the  form  or  which  becomes 
explicit  according  to  the  form  and  in  this  way  knows, 
belongs  to  the  personal  subject  or  is  included  in  the 
personal  consciousness,  or  else  the  personal  subject 
would  not  know  and  would  not  exist.  But  there  cannot 
be  a  distinct  one  for  each  personal  subject,  for  in  such 
a  case  no  personal  subject  could  know  or  suspect  or 
suppose  the  existence  of  any  other  personal  subject, 
which  is  contrary  to  the  truth.  The  activity  of  which 
we  are  speaking  is  therefore  one  and  the  same  for  all 
personal  subjects  and  is  wholly  possessed  by  each. 

Moreover,  the  same  activity  is  a  constituent,  not  only 
of  each  knowing  subject,  but  of  each  knowable  concrete 
object.  A  concrete  object  is  knowable  by  me  just  in  as 
far  as  it  exists  for  me.  The  existence  and  knowability 
of  the  concrete  object  can  be  reduced  to  this,  that  that 
form  of  my  cognitive  activity  is  a  characteristic  of  the 
concrete  object,  that  the  concrete  object  is  a  determina- 
tion of  that  form,  a  product  of  the  same  activity. 

To  suppose  that  concrete  objects  are  not  products  of 
this  activity  alone,  that  this  activity  to  produce  them 
must  interfere  with  another,  with  something  else  which 
provokes  it,  is  nonsense.  This  other  activity,  or  this 
something  else,  must  exist  in  order  to  interfere  or 
provoke.  Therefore  it  must  be  originally  a  determina- 
tion of  that  form,  a  product  of  that  activity. 

In  conclusion,  each  subject,  and  each  thing  that  a 
subject  apprehends  or  can  ever  apprehend,  has  its  root 
in  the  activity  of  which  we  speak.  This  is  therefore 
the  real  element,  numerically  common  to  everything  of 
which  the  universe  is  composed.  Unless  \ve  wish  to 
suppose  a  universe  declared  nori-existent  in  the  same 
sentence  in  which  it  is  supposed,  we  must  say  that  the 
subject,  in  thinking  Being,  thinks  the  (thinkable)  element 
common  to  everything,  the  fundamental  element  of  the 


228  The  Great  Problems 

universe,  and  the  subjective  doctrine  is  reduced  to  the 
objective  one. 

Conversely  the  latter  can  be  reduced  to  the  former. 
If  I  think,  if  I  know  the  real  or  Being,  or  that  which  all 
things  have  in  common,  it  must  needs  be  that  the  real, 
or  Being,  or  that  which  all  things  have  in  common, 
coincides  absolutely  and  entirely  with  what  I  think  and 
know  ;  that  in  so  far  as  it  is  thought  or  known  by  a 
personal  subject,  in  so  far  as  it  is  a  thought  and  a  know- 
ledge of  mine,  it  certainly  cannot  fail  to  be  an  element 
of  my  self,1  an  expression  of  an  activity  which  is  mine, 
though  not  mine  only :  that  it  is  an  essential  con- 
stituent of  myself1  as  well  as  of  all  that  which  can  be 
called  existent,  precisely  because  constituted  by  it. 


IV 

But  what  does  anyone  mean  who  says  Being,  and 
nothing  but  Being  ? 

An  activity,  we  have  already  replied.  In  fact,  with- 
out Being  there  would  be  nothing.  Everything  exists 
indeflnabmty  in  so  far  as  it  exists ;  in  other  words,  in 
tru?8?fniflca-  so  ^ar  as  ^  has  the  characteristic  of  Being,  in 
so  far  as  that  characteristic  of  it  which  is 
Being  exists.  Everything  exists  through  Being,  has  its 
existence  from  Being,  or  is  a  product  of  Being. 

But  we  must  not  delude  ourselves  with  the  idea  that 
we  have  made  the  concept  of  Being  any  more  precise. 
That  activity  which  is  Being  is  still  nothing  else  but 
just  Being. 

Activity  as  contrasted  with  passivity  and  receptivity 
has  doubtless  a  determinate  sense  ;  these  three  concepts 
as  correlatives  determine  one  another.  I  see  a  light  burn- 

1  Persona. 


Being  229 

ing,  and  its  brightness  annoys  me.  To  the  illuminating 
activity  of  the  light  there  corresponds  a  passivity  in  my 
nervous  system  which  remains  impressed.  A  receptivity 
and  again  a  passivity  correspond  in  my  consciousness. 
A  sense-perceivable  is  included  in  it  as  a  sense-precept, 
and  an  unpleasant  feeling  is  created.  I  put  the  light 
out ;  I  develop  an  activity  to  which  there  is  a  corre- 
sponding passivity  in  the  light  which  ceases  to  burn. 
To  conceive  activity,  passivity,  and  receptivity  signifies 
to  make  distinctions  of  the  nature  of  the  aforesaid. 

But  that  activity  which  is  Being  is  not  conceivable 
by  means  of  any  analogous  distinction.  The  activity  of 
Being  is  no  less  included  in  those  which  I  have  called 
passivity  and  receptivity  than  in  that  which  I  have 
called  in  particular  activity  in  the  example  referred  to. 
Passivity  and  receptivity  exist,  just  as  much  as  the 
particular  activity  which  I  distinguish  from  them. 

To  say  that  Being  is  activity  is  not  out  of  place. 
It  serves  to  make  clear  an  essential  point — viz.  that 
Being  cannot  be  reduced  to  the  inert  matter  of  the 
physicists  ;  nor  is  it  only  a  "thought  in  my  head,"  nor 
yet  a  label  made  by  me  to  attach  to  things.  But  it  is 
a  characteristic  of  things,  a  characteristic  without  which 
there  would  be  no  other.  The  term  activity  is  sug- 
gestive;  it  hinders  the  reflection  from  losing  itself;  it 
helps  to  put  it  on  the  right  path.  But  intrinsically,  if 
Being  is  taken  in  its  true  sense,  and  if  by  activity  we 
understand  the  activity  of  Being,  and  not  a  particular 
determination  of  Being,  activity  and  Being  have  the 
same  meaning.  And  after  having  identified  it  with 
activity  we  know  no  more  of  Being  than  before. 

What  do  we  know  of  it  ?  The  fact  is,  we  can  say 
nothing,  and  there  is  nothing  of  which  we  have  con- 
sciousness of  which  we  can  say  only  that  it  exists. 
Therefore  to  be  means  the  same  as  nothing.  And  Being 


230  The  Great  Problems 

coincides  with  nothing  (that  Being,  I  mean,  which  is 
nothing  but  Being). 

Let  us  consider.  Of  red,  blue,  &c.,  we  can  say  that 
they  are  colours-  Also  of  colour  we  can  say  something 
(e.g.  that  it  is  a  content  of  sensation).  But  what  we 
can  say  of  it  will  be  a  characteristic  common  to  colour 
and  something  else  ;  it  will  not  serve  to  distinguish  colour 
from  this  something  else.  Then  if  we  make  abstraction 
from  this  something  else,  do  we  know  nothing  of 
colour  ?  We  know  something  evidently,  for  if  we  cannot 
predicate  anything  of  colour,  we  can  predicate  colour  of 
red,  blue,  &c. 

Being  is  predicated  of  everything,  and  in  consequence 
we  can  predicate  nothing  of  it :  the  extension  of  this 
concept  being  infinite,  its  intension  is  zero.  It  is  im- 
possible to  define  it,  but  this  is  precisely  because  there 
is  no  need  to  do  so.  One  who  has  the  concept  of  this, 
that,  or  the  other  Being — of  this^  that,  or  the  other  class 
of  Beings,  has  therein  implicit  the  consciousness  of  what 
is  common  to  all  the  different  Beings — has  implicit  the 
concept  of  Being.  And  to  render  it  explicit  to  himself 
he  must  only  know  how  to  complete  the  operation 
(already  described)  whereby  we  succeed  in  distinguishing 
the  common  from  among  the  non-common  elements  with 
which  it  is  always  associated.  In  an  analogous  way  one 
who  has  the  concept  of  red,  blue,  &c.,  has  implicit  the 
concept  of  colour,  which  he  will  render  explicit  if  he 
succeeds  in  distinguishing  from  the  peculiar  that  which 
these  concepts  have  in  common. 

We  must  not  confound  the  concept  with  the  ex- 
pression of  it.  The  concept  of  Being  can  only  be 
expressed  by  means  of  a  single  word.  And  a  single  word 
necessarily  lacks  that  internal  organisation,  that  rich- 
ness and  variety  of  articulations,  those  clear  references, 
which  are  properties  of  every  sentence  and  hence  also  of 


Being  231 

definitions.  Therefore  a  single  word  seems  less  significant 
than  a  definition.  The  working  of  a  tool  which  is  in 
one  piece  cannot,  like  that  of  a  machine,  be  reduced  to 
the  ordered  inter- working  of  its  several  parts.  But  we 
cannot  conclude  from  this  that  the  working  of  a  tool 
is  less  intelligible  than  that  of  a  machine.  Every  part 
of  a  machine  is  something  like  a  tool,  nor  could  we 
understand  how  a  machine  works  if  we  did  not  under- 
stand how  a  tool  works.  Well,  a  single  word  can  be 
compared  to  a  tool,  a  definition  to  a  machine.  The  use 
of  the  latter  presupposes  the  use  of  the  former.  The 
complicated  presupposes  the  simple.  Naturally  we 
cannot  claim  from  the  simple  what  belongs  to  the  com- 
plicated. The  attention  is  generally  fixed  in  preference 
on  the  complicated,  which  we  understand  by  taking  it 
to  pieces.  Dominated  by  this  habit,  we  think  the 
simple  unintelligible  because  it  cannot  be  taken  to 
pieces.  But  that  is  an*  impression  from  which  we  must 
free  ourselves.  If  the  simple  were  not  intelligible,  no 
more  would  the  complicated  be  so.  It  is  true  that  a 
word  may  fail  to  be  understood,  by  one  who  lacks  the 
corresponding  concept.  But  there  is  no  one  who  lacks 
the  concept  of  Being.  Therefore  the  corresponding 
word,  though  single,  expresses  it  with  clearness.  No 
one  could  desire  greater  clearness  except  one  who 
desired  finer  gold  than  that  of  twenty-four  carats. 

It  remains  to  consider  the  objective  side  of  the 
question. 

V 

Being-,  and  nothing  but  Being,  means  the  absolutely 
indeterminate.  And  the  indeterminate  has  no  exist- 
ence apart  from  its  determinations ;  it  is  inseparable 
from  them.  Plough,  and  nothing  but  plough,  has  no 
existence  except  as  a  characteristic  common  to  all 


232  The  Great  Problems 

determinate  ploughs.  Suppose  for  a  moment  there 
were  no  determinations  of  Being ;  there  would  be  no 
indetennin-  Being  either.  But  Being  is  necessary.  Neces- 
leing88  °f  Bity,  in  all  its  forms  recognised  by  us,  has  for 
Si^tiiere-  so^e  foundation  the  essential  correlativity  of 
from  things,  their  unity  or  Being.  Besides,  the 

thinkable,  as  such,  cannot  be  non-existent. 

Since  Being  is  necessary,  and  determinations  are 
essential  to  it,  determinations  of  Being  will  also  be 
logically  necessary.  What  sort  of  determinations? 
Concrete  objects  exist,  i.e.  are  determinations  of  being ; 
subjects  with  the  psychical  phenomena  which  constitute 
them  bound  together  in  the  single  unities  of  conscious- 
ness and  unconsciousness  ;  external  facts,  also  psychical, 
i.e.  capable  of  inclusion,  though  not  all  necessarily 
included,  in  the  same  unities ; — everything  in  fact  is  a 
variable  determination  of  Being.  The  one  is  immanent 
in  the  many,  Being  in  the  Beings. 

But  are  the  concrete  objects  which  constitute  the 
observable *  reality  the  only  determinations  of  being  ? 

Concepts  and  the  relations  logically  necessary  be- 
tween concepts  and  concrete  objects  express  the  intrinsic 
requirement  of  Being,  of  which  all  concrete  objects  and 
subjects  are  determinations.  There  is  a  logic  implicit  in 
things  in  so  far  as  all  things  have  their  root  in  Being. 
The  same  logic  becomes  explicit  in  our  subjective 
thinking  in  so  far  as  subjective  thinking  is  a  method 
whereby  each  of  us  renders  himself  conscious  of  the 
Being  which  is  immanent  in  him.  From  the  fact  that 
thinkables  necessarily  exist  we  infer  that  concrete 
objects  and  subjects  (also  concrete)  have  no  separate 
existence,  but  are  determinations  of  one  and  the  same 

1  Reality  is  never  wholly  observable  by  any  limited  subject,  but  we 
observe  one  part  of  it,  and  could  observe  any  other  part  whatever,  if  we  were 
differently  situated  in  space  and  time,  or  even  differently  organised. 


Being  233 

Being,  which  has  an  intrinsic  requirement  of  its  own,  and 
hence  cannot  fail  to  have  certain  essential  determinations. 

But  we  neither  infer  that  Being  has  essential 
determinations  of  another  kind,  nor  that  it  has  these 
only,  nor  that  these  are  essential  (supposing  them  not  to 
be  the  only  ones).  So  far  we  do  not  know  of  any  others, 
and  evidently  must  not  suppose  them.  We  must  in- 
vestigate whether  Being  admits  or  requires  any  others. 
Every  attempt  to  solve  the  Great  Problems  is  reduced 
in  the  end  to  this  investigation. 

The  investigation  can  doubtless  only  be  effected  by 
rational  means.  To  make  it  we  have  only  to  proceed 
along  the  path  already  trodden.  The  unity  of  concrete 
objects  is  not  yet  clearly  apprehended  by  the  average 
man.  We  have  concluded  it  without  a  doubt.  From 
what  ?  From  the  absurd  results  we  obtain  if  we  assume 
that  concrete  objects  are,  as  they  appear  at  first  sight, 
not  essentially  connected.  But  the  concept  of  unity 
which  we  have  formed  so  far  is  not  such  that  we  can 
stop  at  it.  It  is  still  too  indeterminate.  We  shall 
determine  it  with  the  continued  and  renewed  application 
of  the  same  process.  There  can  be  no  other,  and  this 
cannot  fail  to  be  conclusive.  To  seek  with  a  rational 
procedure  which  ends  (and  every  rational  procedure  ends) 
is  to  find.  If  the  thing  sought  proved  undiscoverable, 
it  would  be  proved  non-existent,  and  this  also  would  be 
a  finding. 

Nevertheless  the  investigation  is  perhaps  not  yet 
ripe.  Perhaps  it  requires,  I  will  not  say  a  greater 
number  of  positive  cognitions,  but  a  more  exact,  a 
clearer,  a  less  prejudiced  consciousness  of  the  content,  of 
the  implications,  and  of  the  value  of  every  cognition, 
especially  of  the  cognitions  of  values.  We  must  not 
presume  to  exhaust  it  in  a  few  words  ;  we  shall  have  done 
enough  if  we  succeed  in  starting  it  in  the  true  direction. 


234  The  Great  Problems 


VI 

Determinations  are  essential  to  Being.  Admitting 
that  its  only  determinations  are  concrete  objects — which 
Being  and  a*  ^is  point  is  not  a  supposition  but  an 
happening :  abstaining  from  supposition — we  conclude  that 
spontaneity  concrete  objects  are  as  essential  to  Being  as 

presupposed  .  *f 

by  happen-  Being  to  the  concrete  objects.  As  determina- 
tions of  Being,  concrete  objects  constitute  a 
true  unity,  not  a  simple  aggregate.  Conversely,  Being 
necessarily  implies  concrete  objects,  and  can  be  reduced 
to  the  system  of  concrete  objects  one  and  manifold  at  the 
same  time.  Being  is  realised,  and  cannot  fail  to  be 
realised,  in  the  universe. 

But  the  universe  is  variable.  Since  Being  necessarily 
has  determinations,  and  has  only  those  by  the  entirety 
of  which  the  variable  universe  is  constituted,  we  must  say 
that  the  variation  of  the  universe  has  its  root  in  an 
intrinsic  requirement  of  Being. 

Yet  we  must  not  believe  that  variation  is  in  every 
particular  connected  logically,  and  only  logically,  so  as  to 
be  (in  theory)  rigorously  capable  of  being  foreseen.  The 
transformations  of  a  formula  are  rigorously  capable  of 
being  foreseen.  But  these  constitute  a  variation  for  the 
subject  which  goes  on  discovering  them  gradually,  which 
comes  to  know  them  by  its  own  successive  acts.  In- 
trinsically they  do  not  constitute  a  variation.  The 
different  forms  which  the  formula  can  assume,  the 
relations  which  bind  them  together,  were  and  always 
will  be  thinkable,  apart  from  the  process  by  which 
a  subject  succeeds  in  thinking  thorn,  in  including 
them  in  its  own  personal  consciousness.  In  themselves, 
as  thinkables,  they  do  not  admit  of  variations  of  any 
sort. 


Being  235 

Real  happening,  as  taking  place  in  time,  cannot  be 
reduced  to  a  system  of  logical  relations  only,  for  these 
are  outside  time.  It  would  not  exist  if  being  were 
a  pure  and  absolute  unity — that  is  to  say,  purely  and 
absolutely  logical.  Real  happening  presupposes  multi- 
plicity (we  saw  that  before),  centres  of  spontaneity, 
bound  together  by  logical  relations,  included  in  the 
unity  of  Being,  but  none  the  less  endowed  with  a  certain 
independence — such,  that  is,  that  the  varying  of  each 
centre  is  not  only  the  necessary  logical  consequence  of  a 
varying  already  in  process. 

Real  happening,  in  so  far  as  it  implies  centres  of 
spontaneity  relatively  independent,  escapes  all  rigorous 
prevision.  Under  one  aspect  it  is  accidental  or  alo- 
gical,  but  its  accidental  or  alogical  features1  are  not 
absolute. 

In  fact,  if  there  were  no  centres  with  their  spon- 
taneity or  capacity  for  accidental  variation,  there  would 
be  no  concrete  objects,  and  happening  would  not  take 
place.  Nothing  would  remain  but  the  bare  system  of 
logically  connected  thinkables.  Nothing,  that  is,  would 
remain  but  indeterminate  Being  (which  logically  implies 
every  thinkable.)  Which  is  absurd,  for  indeterminate 
Being  only  exists  as  the  element  common  to  its  deter- 
minations— it  requires  determinations.  Accidentalness, 
however  alogical  in  itself,  is  therefore,  as  we  indicated, 
itself  the  result  of  an  intrinsic  logical  requirement  of 
Being. 

Furthermore,  the  centres,  though  distinct  or  rela- 
tively independent,  are  yet  included  in  the  unity  of 
Being,  of  which  they  are  determinations.  Each  is  the 
beginning  of  a  variation  which  is  not  referable  to  another, 
which  is  an  absolute  beginning.  But  (precisely  because 
every  centre  is  included  in  the  unity  of  Being)  the 

1   L' accidental!^  o  1'a-logicita. 


236  The  Great  Problems 

spontaneous  variation  of  one  interferes  with  that  of 
another  in  a  manner  and  with  a  result  that  depend 
partly,  it  is  true,  on  the  two  variations  under  con- 
sideration, but  partly  also  on  a  logical  law  based  on  the 
unity  of  Being. 

The  alogical,  the  accidental,  cannot,  then,  be  separated 
from  the  logical,  the  necessary.  Happening  implies  at 
the  same  time  elements  that  can  be  foreseen  and  others 
which  cannot,  not  only  inseparable  but  essential  to  each 
other.  If  we  wish  to  form  a  conception  of  the  universe, 
generic  but  exact  in  what  it  can  have  that  is  positive,  we 
have  only  to  render  a  little  more  precise  the  relation 
that  exists  between  the  elements  of  the  two  species. 


VII 

Centres  of  spontaneity  exist.  They  exist  because 
Being,  through  the  necessity  which  is  intrinsic  in  it, 
requires  determinations.  The  spontaneity  of 
of  spContane-  the  centres  is,  then,  to  be  referred  to  Being — 
indetermin-  naturally,  for  there  is  nothing  outside  Being. 
iSuctionto  The  spontaneity  of  the  centres  is,  then,  a 
sSouBness011  spontaneity  of  Being — or  activity,  to  use  a 
term  of  which  we  have  already  made  use. 
To  assert  the  spontaneity  of  Being  is  only  in  the  end 
another  manner  of  expressing  what  we  have  already 
deduced,  i.e.  that  the  necessity  of  Being  implies  an 
accidentalness  which  remains  subordinate  to  logical 
necessity,  while  the  necessity  is  realised  by  means  of 
a  logical  accidentalness. 

None  the  less  there  is  a  difference  between  the 
spontaneity  of  a  centre  and  that  of  Being  considered  in 
its  indivisible  unity.  Each  centre  implies  Being,  all 
Being,  in  which  also  it  is  implied.  In  fact,  it  cannot  be 
stable  without  Being,  or,  rather,  it  cannot  help  varying 


Being  237 

if  even  one  other  centre  varies.  But  a  centre  is  cer- 
tainly a  something  distinct  from  every  other,  and  a 
fortiori  from  all  Being  of  which  it  is  one  particular 
determination.  Hence  the  spontaneity  of  a  centre 
cannot  sic  et  simpliciter  be  identified  with  the  spon- 
taneity of  Being.  Being  creates  spontaneous  centres : 
the  spontaneity  of  a  centre  is  created  by  the  spon- 
taneity of  Being.  This  is  the  true  expression.  We 
understand  that  the  centres  are  created  by  Being,  inside 
itself  and  not  outside,  for  they  are  determinations  of  it. 
Outside  Being  there  is  nothing. 

A  centre  is  spontaneous  in  this  sense,  that  it  is 
distinct  and  relatively  independent :  its  varying  cannot 
be  referred  entirely  to  another  varying.  This  other 
varying  takes  place  because  the  centres  are  numerous 
and  their  variations  are  causally  connected  with  one 
another.  Therefore  the  assertion  that  the  varying  of  a 
centre  cannot  be  referred  entirely  to  another  varying 
has  a  precise  meaning.  The  varying  of  the  universe  can 
be  referred  to  the  spontaneous  variations  of  the  centres 
and  their  causal  connections,  or  it  can  be  referred  to  the 
varying  of  the  universe.  It  depends  on  nothing  else, 
because  there  is  nothing  else.  We  can  and  must  say 
also  of  the  universe  considered  in  its  unity  that  it  varies 
spontaneously.  But  this  spontaneity,  if  we  make 
abstraction  from  that  of  the  individual  centres,  does  not 
exclude  necessity.  It  excludes  determination  ab  extra 
because  there  is  no  extra,  but  not  for  any  intrinsic 
reason.  That  sort  of  spontaneity  that  we  must 
recognise  in  the  universe  as  one  includes  rather  intrinsic 
necessity.  To  suppose  a  principle  of  variation  apart 
from  the  spontaneous  centres — variations  already  in 
course  of  development — and  the  laws  which  connect  them 
with  each  other  is  to  suppose  determinations  of  Being 
other  than  those  from  which  the  universe  results. 


238  The  Great  Problems 

It  is  true  that  the  spontaneities  of  the  individual 
centres  are  determinations  of  Being,  spontaneous  in  so 
far  as  referable  to  Being  only,  but  created  by  Being  by 
an  intrinsic  necessity.  Being,  in  order  to  have  those 
essential  determinations  which  are  the  variable  concrete 
objects,  cannot  help  determining  in  itself  distinct  centres 
of  variation  as  spontaneous  as  they  are  distinct.  Just 
as,  to  take  a  rough  illustration,  if  a  planet  has  to  fall  for 
ever  towards  the  sun,  it  must  fall  away  from  it  as  much 
as  it  falls  towards  it,  and  remain  always  practically  at  the 
same  distance  from  it.  That  same  intrinsic  necessity 
whereby  Being  is  actuated  in  the  varying  of  the  universe 
brings  as  a  consequence  the  formation  of  centres  which 
vary  partly  outside  every  necessity  (though,  of  course, 
never  contrary  to  it). 

Moreover,  a  varying  which  is  not  wholly  determined 
by  logical  relations  or  causal  connections  would  have  no 
raison  d'etre  unless  it  had  it  in  its  own  intrinsic  value. 
Doing  presupposes  feeling,  however  weak,  in  which  the 
centre  of  the  action  lives  the  value  of  the  action.  And 
feeling  presupposes  unity  of  consciousness,  however  poor 
of  content.  The  centres  of  spontaneity  must  be  centres 
of  unity  of  consciousness,  elementary,  but  comparable  to 
subjects.  Universal  Being,  of  which  every  concrete 
object  is  a  determination,  in  order  to  be  spontaneous 
like  a  subject  (in  order  that  its  variation  may  be  inde- 
pendent, not  only  of  every  external  causality,  but  also 
of  intrinsic  necessity)  must  be  a  subject.  But  supposing 
it  such,  we  attribute  to  it  a  determination  other  than 
those  from  which  the  universe  results. 

The  present  section  contains  little  that  is  new.  But 
it  again  confirms  and  clears  up  results  already  obtained. 
Although  not  strictly  necessary,  it  will  he  useful  to  the 
exact  interpretation  of  the  doctrine. 


Being  239 


VIII 

Therefore  necessity  (unity)  and  spontaneity  (multi- 
plicity) are  the  elements  of  the  universe. 

Spontaneity  is   a   product   of  necessity,   a   product 
evidently   necessary.     Necessary  Being,  one,  Monads  and 
in  order  to  determine  or  realise  itself-  -that  is,  Development 
in  short,  to  be — creates  in  itself  the  spontane-  of  tte  monad- 
ous  many,  into  the  unity  of  which  it  may  be  resolved 
and  in  which  it  consists. 

Though  produced  by  necessity,  spontaneity  does  not 
cease  to  be  true  spontaneity.  Or  that  would  not  take 
place  which  must  necessarily  take  place.  It  is  necessary 
that  facts  should  happen — that  is,  non-necessary  facts. 
There  must  be  a  happening,  and  in  consequence  there 
must  be  absolute  beginnings.  Necessity  does  not  deter- 
mine the  beginnings.  What  is  necessarily  determined 
cannot  be  a  true  beginning.  The  product  of  necessity 
is,  as  such,  out  of  time,  eternal.  It  determines  that  there 
must  be  beginnings,  it  determines  the  centres  of  spon- 
taneity which  operate  indeterminately,  each  for  itself— 
the  many,  the  monads. 

The  monads,  as  determinations  of  the  one  Being,  are 
included  in  it.  And  they  include  it  because  each  of  them 
exists.  But  they  can  be  distinguished  from  it  and  from 
one  another  :  precisely  because  each  is  one  determination 
of  Being ;  or  because  each  is  spontaneous.  In  fact, 
Being  is  determined  in  so  far  as  it  necessarily  produces 
in  itself  centres  of  spontaneity. 

Every  act  of  spontaneity  of  a  monad  is  a  fact  of 
consciousness,  and  the  monad,  initially,  is  only  the  unity 
of  its  acts,  a  law,  something  similar  to  the  one  con- 
sciousness of  a  subject  but  with  an  infinitely  poorer 
content — poor  in  relation  to  the  multiplicity  of  distinct 


240  The  Great  Problems 

facts,  and  hence  without  complication  and  what  is  due 
to  complication.  But  we  can  say,  on  the  other  hand,  that 
a  monad's  unity  of  consciousness  includes  Being,  includes 
potentially  the  infinite  variety  of  content  implicit  in 
Being,  inasmuch  as  every  act  of  spontaneity  is  a  deter- 
mination of  Being,  and  the  constituent  law  of  the  monad 
has  its  root  in  the  unity  of  Being. 

As  the  monads  are  distinct  from  one  another  and 
from  Being,  and  as  they  are  all  included  in  the  unity  of 
Being,  their  acts  of  spontaneity  interfere  with  one 
another.  Hence  it  follows  that  each  monad  varies  also 
otherwise  than  spontaneously.  The  spontaneous  facts 
are  connected  in  a  causally  determined  happening. 
From  the  causal  connections — under  which  there  lie  the 
spontaneities  of  the  individual  monads  and  the  unity  of 
them  all,  the  unity  of  Being — there  arises  the  infinite 
variety  of  formations  which  the  universe  presents. 

Bodies  are  groups  of  monads,  bound  together  or  con- 
stituted by  laws  other  than  the  unity  of  consciousness, 
in  substance  by  causal  laws.  If  there  is  need  to  repeat 
it  (for  the  thousandth  time),  these  laws  have  their  root 
in  the  unity  of  Being,  and  can  be  reduced  to  it.  The 
science  of  Nature  has  discovered  some,  more  or  less 
general,  and  is  always  discovering  more.  Whether 
among  those  hitherto  discovered,  there  are  any  rigor- 
ously exact  ones  (I  am  speaking  of  truly  causal  laws 
in  abstraction  from  geometrical  laws),  whether  there 
are  any  universal  or  permanent  laws,  is  a  question 
which  we  may  leave  undiscussed.  In  virtue  of  causal 
laws,  known  to  us  or  unknown,  valid  universally  in  time 
and  space  or  variable  according  to  circumstances,  the 
corporeal  universe  varies  incessantly. 

A  subject  is  a  monad,  connected  with  others  in  a 
body  conveniently  constituted  arid  situated,  so  as  to 
permit  the  unifying  in  its  consciousness  of  a  great 


Being  241 

number  of  external  facts  (of  sense-perceivables),  and  in 
consequence  the  rise  of  other  internal  facts  (recollec- 
tions, representations,  feelings,  whence  afterwards  the 
spontaneity  of  the  monad  receives  certain  specific 
characteristics). 

For  a  monad  to  be  able  to  raise  itself  to  a  subject,  its 
connection  with  a  body  conveniently  constituted  and 
situated  is  required.  That  is,  the  formation  of  such  a 
body  is  required.  The  formation  of  the  body  and  the 
assumption  in  it  of  a  central  situation  by  one  of  the 
constituent  monads  are  correlative  facts  which  can  be 
reduced  to  one.  A  finer  bodily  organisation — in  par- 
ticular an  aptitude  for  producing  articulate  sounds — 
and  a  certain  environment  are  required  in  order  that 
the  subject  may  raise  itself  to  rationality  and  become 
a  person,  and  that  the  person  may  fully  develop  the 
activities  of  which  he  is  capable. 

Between  the  rational  subject,  the  purely  animal  or 
psychical  subject,  and  the  common  monad,  whose  power 
of  making  itself  of  value  can  be  reduced  to  its  being  an 
element  of  those  systems  which  are  bodies,  and  whose 
consciousness  is,  in  degree,  comparable  rather  to  our  un- 
consciousness as  it  is  infinitely  poorer  in  contents  than 
ours,  we  ought  not  apparently  to  recognise  primary 
essential  differences.  Certainly  the  soul  is  not  a  pro- 
duct of  physical  happening.  Physical  happening  is 
rather  constituted  entirely  of  facts  which  can  be  in- 
cluded in  the  unity  of  a  consciousness,  or  of  psychical 
facts,  as  the  determinations  of  Being  can  be  reduced  to 
psychical  facts.  Certainly  rationality  is  not  a  product 
of  psychical  happening,  of  which  it  is  rather  a  condition. 
Rationality  is  the  unity  of  Being,  underlying  all  its 
determinations. 

Personal  consciousness  in  the  greatest  exuberance  of 
its  own  development  is  already  implicit  in  that  of  the 

Q 


242  The  Great  Problems 

most  elementary  monad.  A  monad  which  becomes 
rational  does  not  make  its  rationality  ex  novo,  it  only 
intensifies  its  own  activity,  so  rendering  itself  conscious 
of  the  laws  by  which  it  expresses  itself,  laws  not  only 
already  existent  but  already  immanent  in  it.  Evidently 
an  activity  which  intensifies  itself  expresses  itself  in 
facts  which  would  not  have  happened  without  its  in- 
tensification. For  instance,  a  man  experiences  pains 
and  pleasures  of  which  a  baby  or  a  boy  neither  has  nor 
can  have  experience.  The  intensification  of  the  activity 
presupposes  the  activity.  But  the  activity  presupposed 
will  or  will  not  intensify  itself,  will  or  will  not  have  a 
development,  according  as  it  is  more  or  less  provoked,  in 
one  way  or  another,  by  its  interference  with  connected 
but  distinct  activities. 

The  monads,  or  let  us  say  the  centres  of  spontaneity 
or  of  unity  of  consciousness,  do  not  produce  themselves, 
and  hence  do  not  dissolve  themselves;  they  are  immediate 
consequences  of  the  necessity  through  which  Being 
determines  itself.  We  see  no  reason  to  suppose  that  the 
monads  can  form  or  dissolve  themselves  ;  the  supposition 
seems  to  have  no  possible  meaning.  On  the  other  hand, 
that  the  person  and  the  subject,  with  their  conscious 
determinations,  commence  is  as  certain  as  that  happen- 
ing takes  place.  We  must  conclude,  therefore,  that  a 
monad  is  or  is  not  transformed,  does  or  does  not  develop, 
into  a  person  or  a  subject  according  as  happening  does 
or  does  not  put  it  in  favourable  circumstances. 

We  do  not  exclude  there  being  primary  differences 
between  the  monads.  Or,  rather,  it  would  not  be  diffi- 
cult to  prove  that  there  are  such  necessarily — that  one 
monad  cannot  be  an  exact  reproduction  of  another. 
Are  the  monads,  then,  to  be  divided  into  classes  without 
the  possibility  of  passing  from  one  to  another,  so  that 
certain  monads  can  never  be  anything  but  elements  of 


Being  243 

what  is  called  matter,  and  that  only  some  are  capable 
of  rising  to  be  subjects,  and  only  some  of  these  capable 
of  becoming  persons  ? 

It  would  not  be  easy  to  answer  these  questions,  nor 
shall  we  attempt  it.  One  thing  remains  beyond  dis- 
cussion. If  the  subject  and  the  person  presuppose 
exceptionally  endowed  monads,  they  also  presuppose 
favourable  circumstances,  due  to  happening,  without 
which,  the  most  exceptional  original  gifts  would  remain 
latent,  potentialities  absolutely  inefficacious.  If  Galileo 
had  died  in  his  cradle,  he  would  not  have  written  the 
"  Saggiatore." 

IX 

The    two    principles    of   unity    (or    necessity)   and 
spontaneity  are  not  sufficient  to  give  us  the  reason  for 
the    observable    variation.     We    must    take    variations 
circumstances  of  fact  into  consideration  also.    Stances0!)?1 
Or,  rather,  if  (at  first)  we  limit  ourselves  to    fact 
physical  happening,  we  shall  only  have  to  take  explicit 
account  of  laws  and  circumstances  of  fact. 

Certainly,  if  spontaneous  facts  did  not  happen  there 
would  be  no  happening  at  all,  not  even  physical  hap- 
pening. But  through  the  way  in  which  spontaneous 
facts  affect  each  other  so  as  to  compose  the  observable 
physical  facts,  the  indeterminate  coefficients,  expressions 
of  the  individual  spontaneities,  eliminate  each  other. 
We  do  not  inquire  whether  they  do  so  absolutely  or 
only  approximately.  (Our  observations  are  only  approxi- 
mate.) In  physics,  spontaneity  only  makes  its  value 
felt  in  so  far  as  it  is  presupposed  by  the  observable  facts 
and  their  causal  connections,  never  explicitly.  So  also 
rigorous  unity  does  not  make  its  value  felt  explicitly, 
but  only  as  presupposed  by  the  mathematical  laws  and, 


244  The  Great  Problems 

jointly  with  spontaneity,  by  the  causal  laws — physical 
in  the  strict  sense.  Laws  and  facts  given, — physics  has 
need  of  nothing  else. 

That  the  facts  given  are  elements  very  different 
from  the  laws  is  an  observation  which  may  appear 
superfluous.  It  is  without  doubt  intuitive,  but  this 
does  not  mean  that  it  is  of  little  importance.  Our  solar 
system  varies  in  a  certain  way,  evidently  in  virtue  of 
the  laws  of  gravitation ;  but  further,  because  it  is 
composed  of  certain  bodies,  which  at  a  given  instant  are 
situated  at  certain  distances  from  one  another,  &c.  If 
these  elements  of  fact  were  different,  or  were  to  change 
independently  of  the  intrinsic  variation  of  the  system— 
if,  for  instance,  some  external  bodies  came  considerably 
nearer — the  system,  in  virtue  of  the  same  laws,  would 
vary  in  another  way.  Or  let  us  consider  an  infinitely 
simpler  case  of  common  experience  :  a  ball  of  wood,  in 
virtue  of  the  laws  of  gravity,  sinks  in  air  and  rises  in 
water.  Therefore  the  universe  varies  in  a  certain  way, 
not  only  because  certain  laws  are  valid,  but  also  because 
it  has  at  a  given  instant  a  certain  configuration — because 
the  centres  of  spontaneity  are  distributed  in  it  and 
grouped  together  in  such  or  such  a  way.  And  its  con- 
figuration at  a  given  instant  is  due,  not  only  to  the  laws, 
but  to  what  its  configuration  was  at  a  previous  instant. 

It  is  not  impossible,  perhaps  not  even  improbable, 
that  the  laws  which  are  not  logically  necessary  (many 
causal  laws,  if  not  all)  depend  themselves,  up  to  a 
certain  point,  on  circumstances.  Also,  without  insisting 
on  this  point,  it  seems  clear  that  to  give  an  account 
to  ourselves  of  what  the  universe  is  now,  or  of  the 
way  in  which  it  will  vary  in  the  future,  we  must 
go  back  to  what  the  universe  was  at  a  past  time.  If 
we  go  back  so,  it  will  or  will  not  be  possible  to  reach 
an  initial  configuration,  the  beginning  of  the  universe. 


Being  245 

On  the  first  hypothesis,  the  existence  of  the  universe 
could  not  be  a  consequence  of  the  necessity  through 
which  Being  must  determine  itself.  The  essential 
determinations  of  Being  would  be  of  another  kind  than 
concrete  objects.  If  we  do  not  wish  to  abandon  the 
order  of  considerations  to  which  we  have  attained,  we 
must  choose  the  second  hypothesis.  Then  the  universe, 
not  having  had  an  initial  configuration,  will  not  have 
a  final  configuration  either.  We  shall  never  arrive, 
we  do  not  say  at  the  cessation  of  happening,  but  not 
even  at  a  condition  of  equilibrium  in  motion,  which 
we  might  compare  with  that  at  which  our  solar  system, 
approximately  and  not  for  ever,  has  arrived. 

In  fact,  a  variation  which  lasts  for  ever  cannot  tend 
towards  a  definite  goal,  be  it  rest  or  equilibrium  in 
motion.  It  cannot  be  tending  towards  it,  because,  if 
the  goal  were  realisable,  it  would  have  been  realised 
ages  ago.  That  goal,  if  not  already  realised,  must  be 
intrinsically  unrealisable.  Its  unrealisability,  we  mean, 
cannot  be  like  that  of  so  many  of  our  ends,  which,  though 
quite  thinkable,  fail  through  the  fault  of  external  cir- 
cumstances (there  are  no  circumstances  external  to  the 
universe) ;  it  must  be  reducible  to  unthinkableness,  to 
absurdity.  That  same  necessity  which  makes  the  uni- 
verse be,  excludes  the  possibility  of  the  universe,  as 
wholly  one,  tending  towards  an  end.  (Of  particular 
ends  we  will  say  more  hereafter.) 

The  universe  exists  necessarily,  and  abstraction  made 
from  the  influence  of  the  spontaneous  centres,  which 
is  negligible  in  physics,  varies  necessarily.  Now  the 
necessity  is  always  the  same.  Therefore,  the  variations 
of  the  universe  must  be  such  as  to  leave  it,  as  a  whole, 
always  approximately  in  the  same  state.  This  does 
not  mean  that  the  variations  are  only  apparent.  Here 
one  system  is  in  evolution,  there  another  is  in  dissolution. 


246  The  Great  Problems 

The  evolution  of  the  one  system,  the  dissolution  of  the 
other,  are  facts  as  real  as  the  distinction  between  the  one 
system  and  the  other.  But  in  reference  to  the  whole, 
what  is  gained  on  the  one  hand  is  compensated  by 
what  is  lost  on  the  other.  Or,  rather,  it  is  not  a  case, 
in  reference  to  the  whole,  of  gain  or  loss,  but  of  an 
indifferent  variation.  As  if,  for  instance,  I  move  one 
franc  from  my  right  pocket  to  my  left,  and  at  the  same 
time  another  franc  from  my  left  pocket  to  my  right. 
The  parts  vary,  and  even  profoundly,  each  by  itself. 
The  whole  remains  always  the  same  in  spite  of  the 
variation  of  the  parts. 


That  there  is  purposefulness  in  the  universe  is  no 
less  evident  than  the  universe  itself.  It  remains  that 
•me  monad  we  should  form  an  adequate  concept  of  how 
^J^eruT  this  finality  exists,  and  of  the  limits  (if  any) 
element.  between  which  it  makes  its  value  felt. 

Being  necessarily  determines  in  itself  monads,  or 
centres  of  spontaneous  happening. 

The  spontaneous  acts  of  the  monads  are  facts  of 
consciousness ;  that  is,  they  are  something  analogous 
to  that  of  which  each  of  us  is  conscious.  Not  that 
what  we  are  conscious  of  can  be  reduced  to  spontaneous 
acts,  for  besides  spontaneous  happening  there  is  causally 
determined  happening  ;  but  there  is  no  reason  for  sup- 
posing facts  which  are  not  facts  of  consciousness.  The 
unity  of  a  monad — the  unity  of  those  spontaneous  facts 
which  have  one  and  the  same  centre — is,  then,  unity  of 
consciousness.  In  other  terms,  the  monad  is  something 
analogous  to  a  subject ;  it  is  a  very  simple  elementary 
subject. 

That    unity    of  consciousness   which    is    the   monad, 


Being  247 

however  elementary  and  poor  of  content  we  must  con- 
sider it,  cannot  be  without  its  essential  constituent 
characteristics ;  it  must  be  theoretical  and  practical. 
Theoretical — that  is,  representational ;  we  understand 
that  the  representations  of  a  monad  will  not  be  in 
general  clear  or  distinct.  Practical — that  is  to  say, 
activity  and  feeling.  To  attribute  activity  to  the 
monads  is  only  another  way  of  asserting  their  existence, 
since  the  monads  are  centres  of  spontaneous  happening. 
And  activity  in  order  to  be  spontaneous,  must  be  self- 
determined,  and  must  express  itself  for  the  value  of  its 
very  expression  ;  that  is,  it  must  be  associated  with  a 
feeling,  must  include  the  feeling  as  one  of  its  con- 
stituents. We  understand  that  the  feeling  will  not  be 
in  general  varied  or  intense. 

The  activity  of  the  monads  being  conscious,  and 
having  in  its  own  value  the  reason  of  its  expression- 
being  in  short  spontaneity — is  purposeful.  The  simple 
monad  cannot  propose  to  itself  determinate  ends,  and  in 
particular  external  ends,  because  it  does  not  represent 
them  to  itself;  it  simply  acts  for  acting's  sake.  But  to 
act  for  acting's  sake  signifies  an  acting  which  has  itself 
for  its  end.  The  monad  varies  spontaneously  because 
and  in  so  far  as  such  a  variation  constitutes  a  satis- 
faction, as  slight  and  as  feebly  apprehended  as  you  will. 
We  have,  then,  in  the  monad  a  first  element  of  purpose- 
ful happening.  However,  the  purposefulness  of  the 
monads  is  only  intrinsic  and  only  subconscious  in  com- 
parison with  the  clearness  with  which  we  represent  our 
ends  to  ourselves. 

Besides  determining  the  monads  in  itself,  Being, 
always  through  its  own  intrinsic  necessity,  connects 
causally  their  spontaneous  variations  (thus  giving  rise  to 
facts  distinct  from  these  variations).  So  are  formed 
those  groups — of  monads,  and  of  spontaneous  or  causally 


248  The  Great  Problems 

determined  variations,  or  of  sense-perceivabJes — which 
are  bodies. 

Everybody  is  a  system,  bound  together  and  con- 
stituted by  causal  nexuses,  external  and  internal.  The 
difference  between  organised  and  unorganised  bodies 
must  be  referred  to  the  differences  between  the  said 
causal  nexuses. 

In  the  unorganised  body,  the  constituent  causal 
nexuses  are  approximately  indifferent  to  the  grouped 
monads.  These  are  not  excited  by  them,  either  to 
intensify  their  spontaneities  or  to  express  themselves 
in  one  way  rather  than  another.  Hence  results  the 
already  noticed  dissimulation  of  spontaneity.  In  purely 
physical  happening,  in  so  far  as  it  is  observable,  there 
appears  no  certain  sign  of  the  elements  of  spontaneity 
which  are  included  in  it.  Hence  it  results  further  that 
the  unorganised  body  is  rather  an  aggregate  than  a 
true  unity.  The  suppression  of  one  part  does  not  deter- 
mine essential  variations  in  the  other  parts  and  in  the 
internal  and  external  happening.  Hence  results  in  the 
end  the  lack  of  purposefulness.  In  the  inorganic  heap, 
that  happens  which  must  happen,  given  the  laws  and 
circumstances ;  since  spontaneity  and  value  are  lacking 
— dissimulated — these  are  not  even  ends  to  attain. 

The  'characteristics  of  organisms  are — an  internal 
structure  and  a  special  chemical  composition,  recog- 
nisable by  observation,  and  also  doubtless  an  equally 
special  molecular  constitution.  The  vital  processes  are 
never  lacking  in  bodies  which  present  the  characteristics 
indicated.  They  are  always  lacking  in  those  which  do 
not  present  them.  So  that  the  inseparability  of  the 
vital  processes  and  the  characteristics  cannot  be  doubted. 
And  the  characteristics  can  be  reduced  to  causal  nexuses 
constituting  the  organisms,  or,  we  might  say,  to  certain 
intrinsic  laws  of  theirs. 


Being  249 

Let  us  see  briefly  in  what  way  these  causal  nexuses 
or  these  laws  can  give  rise  to  a  purposeful  happening. 

XI 

First  of  all,  it  is  credible  that  the  constituent  causal 
nexuses  in  the  organisms  avail  to  excite  the  spontaneity 
of  the  monads,  occasioning  in  them  certain  purpo8eand 
specific  forms  of  expression,  whereas  in  the  mecliani8m- 
other  bodies  they  avail  to  dissimulate  it,  as  we  noted. 
In  the  higher  animals,  at  least,  that  happens  without 
doubt  with  respect  to  a  central  monad.  In  fact,  a  unity 
of  consciousness — that  is,  a  developed  monad — is  always 
associated  with  the  body  of  the  higher  animal.  That  the 
physiological  life  and  the  conscious  life  are  connected  by 
mutual  bonds — or  that  the  development  of  the  central 
monad  is  due  to  the  functions  of  the  organisms  and  in  its 
turn  influences  these  functions — is  immediately  evident. 

Considering  that  every  complicated  organism  is 
composed  of  cells  (modified,  it  is  true,  by  their  mutual 
relations),  and  that  there  are  unicellular  organisms,  that 
the  experiments  of  merotomy  prove  that  a  cell  is  com- 
posed of  smaller  parts,  each  of  which,  in  favourable 
conditions,  can  reproduce  a  cell  similar  to  that  from 
which  it  has  been  detached — it  seems  probable  or 
certain  that  the  excitement  of  which  we  spoke  is 
realised  by  all  the  monads  composing  the  organism,  or 
at  least  by  very  many,  and  not  by  the  central  one  only, 
although  the  excitement  is  much  less  varied  and  much 
less  intense  for  the  other  monads.  There  is  no  reason 
to  suppose  that  more  than  one  subject  is  associated  with 
the  body  of  the  animal.1 

The    spontaneous    acting    of  the   monads   is   always 

1  The  simpler  animals  perhaps,  the  plants  certainly,  are  not  subjects  in 
a  strict  sense  ;  in  their  bodies  there  would  be  no  central  monad. 


250  The  Great  Problems 

purposeful.  So  also  will  be  the  more  energetic  and 
more  varied  acting  of  the  monads  when  excited  as  we 
have  said.  And  such  acting  being  provoked  by  ex- 
ternal excitements,  and  constituted  by  interference  with 
an  external  happening,  its  purposefulness  (obscure  and 
subconscious)  will  be  directed  in  some  way  towards  the 
external  world.  Circumstances  being  no  longer  indif- 
ferent as  in  the  inorganic  body,  the  monad  tends  to 
adapt  itself  to  them  and  to  adapt  them  to  itself. 

An  organism  is,  then,  a  system  of  spontaneous 
centres,  each  of  which  works  by  interfering  with  the 
others  according  to  an  end  which,  in  the  complex,  is 
determined  for  it  by  the  interference  with  the  others. 
Supposing  the  system  to  be  in  equilibrium — which 
supposes  a  certain  constitution  of  the  system,  and  a 
favourable  environment — we  understand  without  much 
difficulty  how  the  purposeful  operations  of  the  individual 
centres  can  and  must  interfere,  so  that  a  purposeful 
variation  of  the  system  results  from  it,  even  if  there  is 
no  central  monad  to  exercise  a  directing  function. 

Secondly,  a  purely  physical  system  (one,  that  is,  in 
which  the  spontaneity  of  the  monads  is  dissimulated) 
can  also  vary  according  to  an  end,  but  only  in  virtue  of 
its  physical  structure.  Our  machines  might  serve  as  an 
illustration.  An  organism  nourishes  itself,  reproduces 
itself,  adapts  itself  (within  certain  limits)  to  the 
variations  of  the  environment,  and  can  (within  certain 
limits)  repair  accidental  disturbances  of  its  intrinsic 
equilibrium.  Above  all,  it  prepares  formations  directed 
towards  remote  ends,  certainly  unapprehended  and 
extraneous  to  what  we  should  call  the  purpose  of  the 
organism  as  such,  while  the  means  to  the  attainment  of 
these  ends  are  applied  with  a  sureness  far  superior  to 
that  of  our  conscious  intelligent  acting — things  of 
which  no  machine  is  capable. 


Being  251 

With  all  this,  it  has  appeared  to  some  (including  the 
writer)  that  the  organism  can  be  reduced  to  a  species  of 
machine — infinitely  more  delicate  than  ours,  for  every 
assignable  part  of  that  machine  which  is  the  organism1 
would  still  be  a  machine,  which  is  not  true  of  our 
machines. 

The  more  delicate  and  profound  purposefulness  of 
the  organisms  would  be  referable  to  their  greater  com- 
plication. Also  the  problem  of  origin  (since  every 
machine  supposes  an  intelligent  maker)  would  be 
eliminated  without  much  difficulty,  assuming  that  the 
reduction  of  organisms  to  a  species  of  machine  is  recon- 
cilable with  the  fact  of  reproduction.  Certainly  the 
first  origin  of  the  organisms  is  not  assignable,  not 
because  we  are  not  capable  of  assigning  it,  but  because 
organisms,  equally  with  happening,  never  had  a  begin- 
ning. Organisms  exist  because  others  preceded  them, 
and  these  were  preceded  in  their  turn  by  others,  and 
so  on  ad  infinitum.  It  is  true  that  the  actual  species  of 
organisms  have  not  existed  ab  teterno,  but  this  difficulty 
also  can  be  resolved  by  extending  to  evolution  that 
same  purely  causal  account  which  we  gave  of  life. 


XII 

The  purely  causal  doctrine  is  only  a  hypothesis.     It 
leads  us  to  admit  or  it  presupposes  that  physical  facts 
cannot  be  reduced  to  facts  of  consciousness,  purposefui- 
After  what  we  have  seen,  there  is  no  further  purposeful011 
need  to  confute  it.     As  rationality  cannot  be  reciprocal 
explained  by  means  of  the  irrational,  so  the  comPlication 
evident  purposefulness   of  life  cannot  be  explained   by 
means  of  causal  necessity.     It  implies  a  purposeful  factor. 

1   Including  in   the   account    both    the   chemical   constitution   and   the 
molecular  structure. 


252  The  Great  Problems 

We  have  recognised  an  undoubtedly  purposeful 
factor  in  the  spontaneity  of  the  monads.  We  can  also 
suppose  a  second.  We  can  suppose  that  in  Being,  as 
one,  there  are  implicit  laws,  essentially  final,  in  the  same 
way  that  the  necessary  logical  laws  are  implicit  in  it. 
Be  this  as  it  may,  one  thing  is  certain.  The  mani- 
festations of  life,  and  the  higher  and  more  complex  most 
of  all,  though  they  certainly  imply  purposeful  factors, 
yet  imply,  on  the  other  hand,  physical  conditions  also, 
determined  by  a  happening  which  is  under  the  bond  of 
necessity,  and  to  which  in  consequence  finality  remains 
extraneous.  Though  life  is  not  the  product  of  a 
mechanism,  it  is  developed  in  the  bosom  of  a  mechanism, 
and  depends  on  it.1 

Non-purposeful  causes  are  insufficient  to  explain 
life,  but  it  is  impossible  to  avoid  taking  account  of  them 
in  a  theory  of  life.  The  mechanism  in  which  life  is 
developed  and  on  which  it  depends  consists  in  the  end  of 
vital  and  psychical  elements.  A  happening  takes  place 
because  there  are  centres  of  spontaneity  or  of  unity  of 
consciousness.  But  the  identity  of  the  elements  of  which 
both  the  inorganic  world  and  the  organisms  are  con- 
stituted does  not  exclude  the  diversity  of  the  formations 
and  laws.  The  essential  indestructible  spontaneity  of 
the  centres  and  of  the  monads  is  reduced  by  certain 
formations  (viz.  physical  formations)  to  a  minimum 
without  observable  effects  ;  by  certain  other  formations, 
viz.  organisms  (particularly  the  higher  ones),  it  is 
intensified  and  rendered  capable  of  a  large  development. 

That  the  formations  of  the  second  kind  can,  within 
certain  limits,  open  a  way  for  themselves,  and  through 
obstacles  opposed  by  those  of  the  first  kind,  is  exemplified 

1  Mechanism,  if  there  is  any  need  to  say  it,  means  the  physical  world  in 
so  tar  as  it  is  determined  by  nei.-es.siiy.  We  are  not  speaking  of  the  doc- 
trine which  claims  to  reduce  physical  facts  to  motions  only. 


Being  253 

by  us,  who  by  way  of  cognition  dominate  nature.  But 
there  are  insuperable  limits.  A  tile  on  the  head  kills 
the  most  intelligent  man.  A  relatively  slight  physical 
disturbance  might  annihilate  at  a  blow  the  whole  human 
race,  and  make  every  observable  form  of  life  disappear 
from  the  earth. 

Might  ?  The  fact  rather  will  certainly  be  realised — 
at  some  remote  time  according  to  every  probability.  In 
ordinary  practice  it  is  not  a  case  of  troubling  about  it. 
But  the  more  elevated  practice  which  is  bound  up  with 
religious  beliefs  and  philosophical  speculations  must 
trouble  about  it,  for  the  fact  will  be  realised,  no  matter 
whether  sooner  or  later.  That  the  solar  system  must 
be  dissolved  can  be  foreseen  with  that  same  certainty 
with  which  it  can  be  foreseen  that  an  animal  will  die. 

The  purely  causal  n  on -purposeful  account,  in  spite  of 
its  insufficiency,  would  turn  out  true  in  the  complex — in 
reference  to  the  whole.  As,  for  instance,  physical  deter- 
minism holds,  we  cannot  even  in  physics  make  a  fore- 
cast rigorously  exact  in  every  particular.  Every  single 
fact  implies  indeterminate  coefficients.  We  need  not 
inquire  whether  they  are  absolutely  indeterminate  in 
themselves,  or  if  it  is  only  our  knowledge  of  them  that 
is  not  determinate  and  precise.  That  notwithstanding, 
physical  happening  appears  to  us  on  the  whole  subject  to 
inevitable  necessary  laws.  In  the  same  way,  the  single 
vital  facts,  the  entire  life  of  an  organism,  and  the  whole 
of  its  life  during  a  very  long  period — its  evolution  on  the 
earth, — all  this  implies  an  indisputable  purposefulness. 
But  if  we  consider  the  universe  in  the  complex  without 
enclosing  ourselves  within  certain  limits  determined  by 
space  and  time,  we  must  recognise  that  the  purposefulness 
is  eliminated.  As  it  cannot  escape  from  causality,  with 
which  it  shares  the  field,  it  must  in  the  lone  run  yield  to 

O  J 

it      Its  yielding  is  not  its  annihilation.      Excluded  from 


254  The  Great  Problems 

one  part  of  the  physical  world,  purposefulness  reappears 
in  another  and  recommences  its  work  there,  not  ineffica- 
cious, but  always  doomed  to  be  interrupted.  Ends  make 
their  value  felt,  but  always  subordinately  to  causes. 
The  universe  implies  purposeful  organisations,  but  as  a 
whole  it  has  no  purposeful  organisation,  and  does  not  tend 
to  acquire  one. 

XIII 

All  this,  however,  supposes  that  the  human  race  must 
cease  to  exist.     But  (some  one  will  say)  such  a  presup- 
position is  inadmissible  in  spite  of  the  argu- 

Whether  the  .  .  .... 

universe  as      ments   with    which    the    physicists   claim    to 

wiiols  IIILS 

purposeful-  prove  it.  The  physical  world  only  exists  in 
consciousness  and  thought.  It  is  absurd  that 
from  a  transformation  of  it  the  annihilation  of  conscious- 
ness and  thought  should  result.  This  objection  is  worth 
no  more  than  the  paper  on  which  it  is  written. 

The  physical  world  is  a  collection  of  sense-perceiv- 
ables,  determinations  of  one  and  the  same  Being,  and 
therefore  regulated  by  laws.  It  is  evident  it  will  never 
be  anything  else.  Who  has  said  that  it  would  become 
anything  else  ?  The  earth,  when  every  observable  living 
being  had  disappeared  off  it,  would  still  be  a  collection  of 
sense-perceivables  regulated  by  laws.  Or,  rather,  the 
disappearance  of  the  living  beings  would  have  been  a 
consequence  of  these  same  laws. 

In  order  to  deduce  the  immortality  of  the  human  race 
from  the  indefensibility  of  materialism,  we  should  have 
to  prove  that  it  is  essential  to  sense-perceivables  and 
thinkables  to  be  included  in  the  unities  of  the  personal 
human  consciousnesses. 

That  which  as  sense-percept  or  thought  is  included 
in  the  consciousness  of  a  man  is  certainly  not  peculiar  to 
that  man.  It  is  not  something  which  vanishes  if  that 


Being  255 

man  ceases  to  have  consciousness  of  it  (by  going  to  sleep 
or  dying).  Sense-perceivables  and  thinkables  are  the 
same  for  all.  The  men  who  have  been,  are,  and  will  be  ; 
the  sentient  and  knowing  beings,  of  whatever  species, 
have  in  common  something  which  necessarily  survives  the 
dissolution  of  each  personal  consciousness.  Each  of  us 
can  therefore  assert  with  certainty  non  omnis  moriar. 

But  this  something — in  substance  Being — necessarily 
survives  because  it  is  not  peculiar  to  any  personal  con- 
sciousness, or  because  it  does  not  presuppose  personal 
consciousness.  Consequently  its  survival  does  not  prove 
that  a  personal  consciousness  or  the  historical  connection 
of  certain  personal  consciousnesses  must  persist.  It  rather 
proves  the  contrary.  Each  personal  consciousness,  each 
historically  connected  group  of  personal  consciousnesses, 
is  a  formation,  an  element  of  fact.  It  cannot  be  con- 
founded with  that  of  which  it  is  the  formation,  with  the 
fundamental  condition  of  the  possibility  of  every  fact. 
It  cannot  have  the  same  persistence. 

I  know  that  I  have  not  always  existed.  I  know  it, 
certainly  not  because  I  have  recollections  of  a  time  in 
which  I  did  not  exist,  but  because  I  deduce  it  necessarily 
from  that  of  which  I  have  consciousness.  In  the  same 
way  I  know  that  the  human  race  has  not  always  existed. 
If  the  argument  under  discussion  proved  that  humanity 
cannot  end,  it  would  prove  that  it  cannot  have  begun. 
It  would  prove  that  what  is  necessarily  concluded  can 
be  false.  Or  it  would  prove  that  the  thing  thought 
by  us  is  only  an  insignificant  formation  of  our  individual 
consciousness,  and  not  an  essential  element  of  things 
(which  it  really  is,  not  as  thought  by  us  but  as  think- 
able). This  would  cut  our  argument  up  by  the  roots. 

Not  only  is  it  not  allowed  us  to  assert,  but  we  must 
rather  exclude  the  idea  that  the  universe  at  any  time 
whatever,  earlier  or  later,  has  not  contained,  or  is  not 


256  The  Great  Problems 

going  to  contain,  sentient  and  thinking  subjects, 
analogous  to  ourselves,  though  perhaps  quite  different 
from  us  in  particulars  which  we  could  not  imagine  and 
which  are  of  no  importance.  This  is  to  be  excluded, 
but  for  the  reason  already  set  forth,  viz.  that  the 
universe,  which  now  in  fact  includes  us,  is  on  the  whole, 
and  cannot  help  being,  always  the  same,  and  not  because 
our  sensations  or  our  cognitions  are  essential  as  ours  to 
things,  to  which  sense-perceivables  and  knowables  are 
alone  essential. 

The  universe  always  has  included,  and  always  will 
include,  beings  analogous  to  us.  But  this  is  not  what 
we  are  discussing.  We  are  asking  if  men  or  beings 
analogous  to  men  or,  in  general,  living  creatures,  con- 
stitute what  we  might  call  a  higher  organism  which 
continuously  develops  itself  in  time.  And  the  answer 
can  only  be  negative.  Of  course  this  is  in  the  sequence 
of  ideas  which  we  are  developing  ;  whether  the  develop- 
ment must  induce  us  to  abandon  it,  we  shall  see 
hereafter. 

XIV 

If  we  wish  to  understand  the  universe  and  value  it, 
we  must  distinguish  between  what  is  due  to  the  unity 
Further  and  what  to  the  multiplicity.  Wine  can  be 
elucidations,  decanted  because  it  is  liquid  ;  it  is  intoxicating 
because  alcoholic.  Pure  liquidness  and  pure  alcoholic- 
ness  are  two  abstractions.  They  are  not  two  things 
which  meet  to  form  wine.  They  are  characteristics  of 
wine,  inseparable,  but  quite  distinct,  and  with  distinct 
functions.  So  pure  unity  and  pure  multiplicity,  two 
abstractions,  are  characteristics  of  the  universe,  absolutely 
inseparable,  because  each  implies  the  other,  but  quite 
distinct  and  with  distinct  functions.  To  the  unity  we 
owe  logical  necessity,  by  which  the  universe  is  dominated. 


Being  257 

To  the  multiplicity  we  owe  the  distinction  of  the 
individual  unities  of  consciouness,  spontaneity  and  pur- 
posefulness.  In  causality  the  inseparability  of  the  one 
and  the  many  is  rendered  manifest.  The  spontaneity 
of  each  of  the  many  individuals  is  a  variation.  These 
variations  are  causally  connected  with  one  another,  and 
determine  others  so  that  the  many  individuals  are 
logically  included  in  the  one.  All  this  has  already  been 
set  forth  and  proved ;  let  us  confirm  it  in  a  brief 
summary. 

Sense-perceivables  and  thinkables  can  be  or  are 
common  to  every  subject.  On  this  account  the  activity 
of  one  subject  is  numerically  one  with  that  of  another  : 
the  Being  of  one  subject  is  the  Being  of  another — is 
Being.  Every  subject  has  a  determinate  form  exclusively 
its  own.  Certainly  the  determinate  form  of  a  subject 
is  also  a  determinate  form  of  universal  Being.  But 
Being  cannot  but  determine  itself,  and  to  determine 
itself  it  cannot  but  create  distinct  centres  in  itself,  and 
among  its  determinations,  while  there  is  something 
common  to  every  centre  (for  the  centres  have  no 
existence  separate  from  that  of  Being),  there  is  something 
peculiar  to  each  centre — that  is,  belonging  to  one  centre 
only,  and  not  to  any  other.  Without  this  the  centre 
would  not  be  distinct,  and  Being  would  not  issue  from 
indeterminateuess. 

Every  subject,  every  centre,  is  a  unity  of  con- 
sciousness—a unity  of  the  determinations  which  are 
common  to  it  with  every  other,  and  of  those  which  are 
exclusively  its  own.  On  the  inclusion,  in  each  unity,  of 
determinations  exclusively  its  own  depend  the  exclusive- 
ness,  the  distinction,  and  the  reciprocal  externality  or 
irreducible  separation  of  the  unities.  I  see  and  know 
what  another  sees  and  knows.  But  I  see  and  know  in 
so  far  as  a  common  content  is  associated  with  elements 

R 


258  The  Great  Problems 

which  are  not  common.  Therefore  neither  the  seeing 
nor  the  knowing  (unlike  the  seen  and  the  known)  is 
common.  Therefore  the  activity  also,  although  funda- 
mentally one  alone,  as  a  conscious  activity,  as  associated 
with  a  feeling,  is  divided  into  distinct  and  extraneous 

O * 

fields. 

To  distinguish  between  what  is  due  to  the  unity 
and  what  to  the  multiplicity  is  not  therefore  a  failure 
to  recognise  the  logical  primacy  of  the  real  unity,  of 
Being.  Real  unity  implies  multiplicity  and  vice  versa. 
Unity  considered  apart  from  multiplicity  and  multiplicity 
considered  apart  from  unity  are  abstractions,  each  of 
which  needs  to  be  integrated  by  means  of  the  other. 
To  take  account  of  the  unity  alone  is  to  stop  at  an 
abstraction.  It  is  to  fall  into  an  error  opposite  but 
correlative  to  that  of  one  who  takes  the  multiplicity 
only  into  account.  In  either  case  no  theory  can  be 
constructed.  Words  may  be  spoken  in  which  an 
incomplete  reflection  may  suppose  there  is  a  meaning, 
but  there  will  be  none. 

In  conclusion,  either  Being  has  essential  determinate 
forms  other  than  concrete  objects  (and  then  it  is  no 
longer  a  certainty  that  concrete  objects  are  its  essential 
forms),  or  we  must  say,  the  activity  of  Being  only  be- 
comes explicit,  only  realises  itself,  by  breaking  itself  up 
into  the  distinct  spontaneities  of  the  individual  centres, 
of  the  particular  unities  of  consciousness.  This  breaking 
up  does  not  abolish  the  unity.  In  fact,  the  variations  to 
which  the  distinct  spontaneities  give  rise  are  causally 
connected  under  the  rule  of  logical  laws  :  the  individuals 
constitute  a  universe.  But  it  is  nonsense  to  refer  to  the 
unity  as  such — to  the  pure  unity — what  is  a  consequence 
of  the  multiplicity  implicit  in  the  unity.  Those  deter- 
minate forms  which  are  consequences  of  the  breaking  up 
become  incomprehensible  and  absurd  if  we  make  abs- 


Being  259 

traction  from  the  breaking  up.  They  still  have  their 
root  in  the  unity,  but  only  indirectly  in  so  far  as  unity 
implies  multiplicity.  They  are  not  determinate  forms  of 
Being  considered  as  simply  one. 

A  tumbler  is  broken,  and  some  one  cuts  himself  with 
the  pieces.  A  non-existent  tumbler  could  not  be  broken, 
but  that  gives  us  no  right  to  say  that  so  and  so  cut 
himself  with  the  tumbler  as  it  was.  He  cuts  himself 
rather  because  the  tumbler  is  no  longer  in  its  former 
state.  With  alterations,  which  the  acute  reader  will 
supply  for  himself,  the  same  is  true  for  the  unity  of 
Being  and  its  breaking  up.  It  is  true  a  fortiori,  because, 
as  far  as  Being  is  concerned,  the  precedence  of  the  unity 
over  the  multiplicity  is  a  matter  of  logic  and  not  of  time. 


XV 

Although  the  purposefulness  which  manifests  itself 
is  certainly  implicit  in  Being,  in  the  one  which  underlies 
the    individual    formations,  yet   the  universe  Digcontinuity 
in  its  totality  is  not  ordered  with  reference  to  ofthe 

J  .         purposeful 

an  end.     The  concept  of  purposefulness  which  formations  on 

.    J  the  assump- 

we  apply  to  the  organisms,  to  the  complexes  tiou  that  the 

^  sole  deter- 

of  organisms,   to   the  story  of  man,  which  is  minate  forms 
precisely  determined  by  these  applications  of  the  concrete 
it,  is  not  applicable  to  the  universe  as  a  whole. 
To  speak  of  end  in  reference  to  the  universe  is  to  use  the 
word  "  end  "  in  a  meaning  which  is  no  longer  that  which 
we  know.      At  the  most  we  can  say  that  the  end  of  the 
universe  is  to  exist.      But  this  is  not  an  end  which  iroes 

O 

on  realising  itself  by  degrees  in  time  like  the  particular 
ends.  It  is  always  actuated  necessarily,  because  Being 
cannot  lack  its  essential  determinations,  and  these,  just 
because  they  cannot  be  lacking,  cannot  change  in  the 
complex.  The  varying  of  the  particulars  is  in  the  end 


260  The  Great  Problems 

nothing  but  the  permanence  of  the  whole — that  per- 
manence which  alone  is  possible,  the  whole  having 
necessarily  the  structure  which  it  has ;  just  as  (to 
illustrate)  the  uniform  rectilinear  motion  of  a  body  left 
to  itself  is  only  the  permanence  of  its  velocity,  and  hence 
cannot  have  a  purpose  for  the  same  reason  that  it  cannot 
have  a  limit. 

The  evolution  of  life  on  the  earth  cannot  be  disputed. 
It  has  undeniably  a  purposive  character.  Neither  life 
nor  (I  was  about  to  say  a  fortiori)  the  evolution  of  life 
can  be  produced  by  non-final  causes.  Besides  that  of 
life  on  the  earth,  there  is  also  an  evolution  of  the  earth. 
The  geological  and  biological  evolutions  cannot  be 
separated.  The  first  is  a  condition  of  the  second,  and 
the  second  exercises  on  the  first  an  influence  which 
cannot  be  neglected.  We  can  also  speak,  not  without 
foundation,  of  an  (astronomical)  evolution  of  the  solar 
system.  That  this  is  regulated,  and  regulated  with 
very  great  stability  is  quite  manifest. 

It  does  not  seem  that  biological  facts  exercise  any 
influence  on  the  astronomical  evolution  of  the  solar 
system ;  their  influence  even  on  geological  evolution  is 
secondary  and  limited.  Be  this  as  it  may,  it  is  impossible 
not  to  recognise  that  a  purposive  order  predominates  in 
our  solar  system  ;  however  it  is  produced  there,  life  on 
the  earth  would  not  have  developed  as  it  has,  and  would 
not  be  what  it  is — our  culture  and  our  philosophy  would 
not  have  appeared — if  the  order  of  the  solar  system  had 
been  different.  If  we  limit  our  consideration  to  the 
solar  system,  there  is  neither  method  nor  motive  to 
counteract  the  impression  that  happening  tends  towards 
an  end,  and  that  this  end  is  ourselves  and  the  develop- 
ment, ever  more  intense,  more  harmonious,  and  more 
conscious,  of  our  powers. 

But   man    cannot    be    the    centre    of   the    universe. 


Being  261 

More  exactly,  he  cannot  be  the  centre  in  that  limited 
sense  of  which  we  spoke,  and  hence  he  cannot  be  the 
only  centre.  The  universe  consists  of  sense-perceivables, 
each  of  which  can  be  included  in  our  consciousness,  and 
Reason,  which  in  this  is  rendered  more  or  less  explicit, 
is  numerically  one  with  that  which  dominates  the 
universe.  In  this  sense,  not  only  humanity  but  each 
man  is  a  centre  of  the  universe.  But,  on  the  other 
hand,  it  is  just  the  numerical  unity  of  Reason  (of  that 
which  is  explicit  in  us  and  that  which  is  implicit  in 
things)  which  proves  that  the  universe  can  have  no 
infinite  centres,  and  that,  although  every  centre  is 
essential  to  it  and  therefore  indestructible,  the  complete 
development  of  a  determinate  centre  or  of  any  system 
of  centres  whatsoever  cannot  be  essential  to  it  except 
as  a  transitory  fact. 

Our  solar  system  has  great  but  not  absolute 
stability.  It  goes  on  radically  transforming  itself,  and 
some  day  it  will  be  dissipated,  perhaps  by  external 
disturbances.  Moreover,  no  evidence  justifies  or  suggests 
the  supposition  that  its  radical  transformation  and  its 
dissolution  are  means  to  the  attainment  of  any  lasting 
universal  end.  The  dissolution  of  one  system  is  a 
condition  of  another  being  formed,  in  which  an  intrinsic 
purposefulness  will  again  render  itself  manifest.  But 
this  intrinsic  purposefulness  will  not  be  a  continuation 
of  that  developed  in  the  former  system,  and  its  develop- 
ment will  also  have  a  limit,  in  the  same  way  and  for 
the  same  reasons.  Ordered,  in  the  sense  of  causally 
connected,  the  universe  certainly  is.  It  does  not  appear 
from  what  we  know  that  it  is  ordered  with  reference  to 
one  end. 

What  we  know,  what  we  infer  from  our  observations, 
counts  to  a  certain  extent ;  in  comparison  with  the 
infinite,  the  field  of  our  observations  is  reduced  to  a 


262  The  Great  Problems 

point,  a  moment.  The  purposefulness  of  the  universe 
as  a  whole  would  be  certain,  although  not  deducible 
from  the  observations,  if  it  could  be  rationally  proved. 
But  we  conclude  from  the  preceding  discussion  that— 
if  concrete  bodies  are  the  only  determinate  forms 
essential  to  Being:,  from  which  it  follows  that  causal 

O' 

connections  are  necessary — the  purposefulness  implicit 
in  Being,  only  being  able  to  make  itself  explicit  in 
subordination  to  the  causal  connections,  only  makes  its 
value  felt  in  particular  temporary  formations  without 
continuity. 

XVI 

In  the  universe  there  are  activities  which   tend  to 

realise  ends,  and  do  realise   them  to  a  certain  extent. 

But  the  universe  considered  in  its  all-inclusive 

Continuation.           .... 

unity  is  without  purposefulness.  Its  exist- 
ence is  a  perpetual  varying  of  parts  which  leaves  the 
whole  fundamentally  unchanged.  It  is  not  a  develop- 
ment carried  out  according  to  design,  of  which  we  could 
hold  that  it  goes  on  approximating  to  a  definite  higher 
form  of  mobile  equilibrium.  As  a  necessary  consequence 
of  the  intrinsic  rationality  of  Being,  mobile  equilibrium 
cannot  be  lacking ;  but  precisely  for  this  reason  it  is  not 
an  end  to  which  it  tends.  It  is  a  fixed  characteristic, 
invariably  possessed.  ID  one  formation  ends  are  realised 
for  a  time.  In  another  we  should  say,  on  the  contrary, 
that  purposeless  caprice  predominates  for  a  time.  But 
the  formations  of  the  two  kinds  succeed  each  other, 
coexist,  and  interfere,  by  an  intrinsic  necessity.  In  this 
consists  the  mobile  equilibrium  of  the  universe. 

What  we  say  of  the  end  may  be  said  of  value.  The 
two  concepts  are  connected  and  correlative,  though 
they  do  not  coincide.  The  spontaneity  of  every  centre, 
if  we  consider  it  strictly,  apart  from  its  interferences 


Being  263 

with  those  of  other  centres,  is  a  principle  of  variation 
devoid  of  external  purpose  but  not  of  value.  The  reason 
of  its  self-expression  consists  in  it  own  value.  Purpose 
and  value,  both  quite  embryonic,  here  coincide.  The 
interferences,  which  are  never  missing,1  give  rise  to 
complications,  and  associate  with  the  positive  value  of 
the  expression  the  negative  value  of  the  impediment. 
Hence  a  first  external  purposefulness,  an  end  of  the 
action  which  is  no  longer  the  action  itself:  the  avoidance 
of  evil. 

The  physical  formations  (abstracting  from  the  spon- 
taneities of  the  individual  centres  which  are  dissimulated 
outwardly  and  very  poor  inwardly)  lack  purpose  and 
value.  In  the  biological  formations  we  have  an  evi- 
dent and  notable  purposefulness,  but  in  general  slight 
intrinsic  value.  Vegetables,  which  have  110  unity  of 
consciousness,  lack  intrinsic  value,  and  that  of  the 
higher  animals,  though  not  negligible,  is  by  no  means 
proportional  to  the  unconscious  purposefulness  of  their 
organisation.  Man,  as  a  simple  subject,  has  not  much 
more  value  than  the  other  higher  animals,  nor  is  this 

rt 

value  of  a  different  kind. 

But  man  is  also  a  self-conscious  subject,  an  "  /."  As 
such,  he  proposes  ends  to  himself  clearly,  and  makes 
towards  them  with  a  fully  conscious  activity.  The 
highest  end  he  can  propose  to  himself — an  end  which  is 
essential  to  him,  one  of  his  constituents — is  to  know  the 
world  and  himself,  to  develop  activity  according  to  its 
intrinsic  laws,  rendering  himself  conscious  of  these  laws 
(t.<j.  knowing  at  the  same  time  the  world  and  himself) 
and  gaining  thus  mastery  over  himself.  In  the  "  /" 
there  is  again,  as  in  the  monad,  full  coincidence  between 

1  As  the  centres  are  not  separated,  the  self-expression  and  the  interfer- 
ence are  one  and  the  same  faet  :  in  this  we  must  distinguish  as  many 
principles  as  the  spontaneities  which  express  themselves  and  interfere. 


264  The  Great  Problems 

purposefulness  and  value.  But  the  coincidence,  due  in 
the  monad  to  the  extreme  simplicity  of  the  content,  is  in 
the  "  /"  the  consequence  of  an  extreme  complexity 
associated  with  the  greatest  vivacity  of  consciousness. 
Purposefulness,  which  in  the  monad  was  only  internal, 
and  in  the  organisms  had  become  external,  becomes 

o 

internal  again,  but  in  such  a  way  as  to  be  at  the  same 
time  and  co  ipso  external.  The  "  /"  develops  and 
intensifies  itself  in  so  far  as  it  includes  everything  in 
itself  and  subordinates  itself  to  that  rationality  which 
belongs  to  it  in  so  far  as  it  is  universal. 

The  purposefulness  and  value  which  are  essential 
constituents  of  the  " /"  are  without  doubt  the  highest 
purposefulness  and  value.  They  are  absolute  purpose- 
fulness  and  absolute  value.  But  they  are  only  realised 
in  so  far  as  the  formation  which  is  the  personal  "/" 
realises  them.  No  one  who  takes  pains  to  speak 
significantly  will  make  of  the  "  /"  an  accidental 
mechanical  formation.  The  "/"  presupposes  the  activity 
and  rationality  of  Being.  It  is,  we  may  say,  Being 
become  conscious  of  itself.  The  constituent  elements  of 
the  "  /'  are  not  formations.  The  "  /"  nevertheless  is  a 
formation,  because,  besides  those  elements,  their  organi- 
sation in  a  particular  unity  of  consciousness  is  essential 
to  it. 

The  first  and  fundamental  nucleus  of  the  "  7"  is  the 
monad,  the  centre  of  spontaneity  and  of  one  conscious- 
ness, on  whose  origin  it  would  bo  idle  to  make  theories 
or  suppositions,  as  it  is  quite  evident  that  the  monads 
are  coeternal  with  Being,  since  they  are  its  essential 
determination.  But  in  order  thai  the  monad  may 
develop  into  a  subject  and  into  an  "  /,"  it  must  become 
the  centre  of  an  organism,  and  this  organism  must  pass 
through  the  different  phases  of  biolomcal  evolution  and 

O  1  O 

undergo  the  influence  of  history  and  education.      Only 


Being  265 

so  can  there  take  place  in  the  unity  of  the  monad  that 
full  and  intimate  agreement  between  the  individual 
spontaneities  and  the  universal  reason,  that  subordi- 
nation of  spontaneity  to  reason  which  is  the  most 
complete  expression  of  spontaneity,  that  explicit  self- 
assertion  of  reason  in  the  bosom  of  the  one  consciousness 
by  which  the  "  /"  and  its  value  are  constituted. 

All  this  presupposes  an  arrangement  of  facts  which 
is  certainly  always  realised,  but  always  partially  and 
temporarily.  The  "  /"  can  form  and  develop  itself 
on  our  earth,  nor  does  it  appear  that  its  development  is 
near  its  end.  But  it  will  end  with  the  earth,  if  not 
otherwise,  for  the  earth  is  destined  to  end.  And  then 
the  immense  work  accomplished  by  our  predecessors,  by 
us,  and  by  our  posterity,  in  order  to  arrive  at  cognition 
and  mastery  of  self,  will  be  lost  for  ever.  The  evolution 
of  life  will  undoubtedly  recommence  (with  a  great 
variety  of  secondary  forms,  the  same  in  all  essentials)  in 
the  system  which  will  be  re-formed  from  the  fragments  of 
ours  and  others,  but  without  obtaining  any  part  of  that 
evolution  of  which  we  are  the  products  and  in  part  the 
actors,  as  ours  has  obtained  no  part  from  those  which  pre- 
ceeded  it  or  are  realising  themselves  contemporaneously 
in  other  systems. 

XVII 

The  value  of  the  "  /"  (some  say)  is  the  value  of  the 
activity — that  is  of  Being,  which  never  ends.  But  the 
activity  of  the  "  /,"  though  only  activity  of 

.  ,  .  ..__•'.        The  value  of 

Being,  is  yet  determinate  activity.     Hence  it    the  person 
cannot  be  identified  with  the  activity  of  Being 
in  so  far  an  that   is  one  and  indeterminate.      There   is 
not  one  "7"  only — there  are  many;  and  there  must  be 
many,  since  the  activity  of  Being  only  determines  itself 
by  forming  in  itself  distinct  concrete  objects.     These  are 


266  The  Great  Problems 

all  determinate  forms  of  the  same  Being ;  but  transitory 
forms,  whose  groupings  do  not  constitute  a  continuous 
connected  whole. 

Being  potentially  contains  everything,  and  hence 
every  value.  But  potentiality  is  not  actualisation — the 
seed  is  not  the  tree.  Suppress  (per  impossibile)  the 
individual  unities  of  consciousness  and  the  happening 
which  is  a  consequence  of  them  and  constitutes  their 
content,  and  what  remains  ?  The  eternal  elements  of 
value,  but  undifferentiated,  slumbering  in  the  unconcious- 
ness  of  Being.  Contrast,  harmony  which  presupposes 
contrast,  reality,  life,  cognition,  action,  value — all  vanish. 

My  value  is  a  value  of  Being.  Who  doubts  it  ?  I 
have  value  because  I  am.  But  for  me  to  have  value,  it 
is  not  enough  that  something  exists  :  /  must  exist.  I, 
with  all  my  determinate  features,  not  excepting  the  most 
insignificant,  because  they  are  all  constituents  of  the 
unity  of  consciousness,  a  necessary  condition  of  self- 
consciousness,  of  value.  I  have  value  in  so  far  as  I  work, 
bending  my  spontaneity  to  the  universal  laws  (which  are 
implicit  in  me,  and  would  not  become  explicit  and  known 
without  that  working),  and  preventing  it  from  seeking  an 
insipid  pleasure  in  the  features  which  are  peculiar  to  me. 

To  be  what  I  ought  to  be,  I  have  not  to  live  in  the 
clouds  but  on  earth.  I  have  only  to  accomplish  the  acts 
from  which  daily  life  results,  only  to  transform  a  content, 
which  in  part  is  common  to  me  with  others,  partly  even 
with  everyone  else,  but  in  part  is  peculiar  to  me.  The 
peculiar  and  the  common  are  bound  together  in  the 
unity  of  one  consciousness  which  is  distinct  from  every 
other.  The  pains  and  pleasures  which  I  must  be  cap- 
able of  supporting,  are  exclusively  mine.  Mine  also 
exclusively  are  the  endurance,  the  fighting,  and  the 
victory  or  the  defeat.  Universal  reason  creates  value  in 
so  far  as  it  illuminates  and  harmonises  the  manifestations 


Being  267 

of  a  spontaneity  which  is  not  separate  but  distinct. 
Value  presupposes  distinct  spontaneity.  In  other  words, 
I  have  value  because  I  am  a  certain  distinct  individual. 

Certainly,  my  personal  value  is  the  value  of  the 
person,  and  not  of  a  particular  person,  myself.  But  to 
conclude  from  this  that  persons,  qua  persons,  can  be 
reduced  to  one,  would  be  no  more  reasonable  than  to 
assert  that  a  cube  has  only  one  face,  for  the  fine  reason 
that  every  face  of  the  cube  is  a  face  of  the  cube  and  that 
this  is  a  characteristic  common  to  each.  Every  person 
is  a  determinate  person  with  a  distinct  consciousness. 
This  is  a  characteristic  common  to  all  persons,  but  this 
same  characteristic  includes,  as  one  of  its  essential 
marks,  that  each  person  is  a  person  distinct  from  every 
other.  A  person  is  a  particular  spontaneity  intrinsically 
organised  according  to  a  universal  law.  To  constitute 
it  we  need  the  particular  of  spontaneity,  of  distinct  con- 
sciousness with  a  partially  distinct  content,  and  the 
universal  of  law. 

The  absolute  continuity  of  the  development,  the  per- 
manence of  the  values,  cannot  be  preserved  in  any  way, 
if  concrete  objects  are  the  only  determinations  of  Being, 
if  the  potential  value  of  Being  becomes  actual  only  in 
the  individual  persons  ;  for  these,  being  subject  to  the 
bonds  (external  to  each  of  them)  of  a  necessary  and 
therefore  non-final  causality,  can  only  be  transitory,  each 
individually  and  their  groups  collectively.  To  preserve 
the  permanence  of  the  values  we  must  admit  that  causal 
necessity  is  subordinate  to  an  intentional  finality- 
admit,  that  is,  that  Being  is  endowed  with  determinate 
forms  other  than  concrete  objects,  and  produces  concrete 
obiects  in  itself  not  through  the  necessity  of  self-deter- 

» J  O  J 

mination,  but  to  attain  an  end,  to  actualise  a  pre-arranged 
design.  In  this  case  the  concept  of  Being  is  transformed 
into  the  traditional  one  of  God. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

CONCLUSION 


LET  us  sum  up  in  a  few  words  what  we  have  done,  in 
order  to  bring  clearly  before  our  minds  what  remains. 
Relation  be-  The  unity  of  Being,  i.e.  the  existence  of  a 

tweentne          TT    .  i      -r»    .•  T-«  i      -r^-    •  1-1 

conception  of    Universal,   Kational,  internal,   JDivme,  which 

the  divine  ,  .  .  ,  IT  j 

and  the  con-  penetrates  things,  is  no  longer  to  be  disputed. 

vaiueTbe-  Materialism,    under     whatsoever    form,    and 

conception  of  coarse  Atheism,  are  eliminated  for  ever.     The 

value  SveVag  realm  of  values  is  not  that  of  the  pleasures  and 

Th^probiem  pains  of  the  senses,  but  that  of  the  rational 

mai£  to  be  knowing  activity.     At  the  same  time  we  have 

condition  of  overcome  and  definitely  eliminated  the  common 

ftesoiufion-  conceptioii   of  creation,    according   to    which 

which  means  Q-od   arid   the   world   would  be    outside   each 

*°  be  tx  rm  -i  •     • 

veritate.  other.1  That  the  divine  is  immanent  in 

things,  and  that  things  have  existence  in  the  divine,  is 
as  certain  as  the  existence  of  the  divine  and  of  things. 

It  remains  to  be  known  if  the  divine  exists  only  as 
immanent  in  things,  or  has  also  determinate  form 
peculiar  to  itself — whether  it  is  or  is  not  a  unity  of 
consciousness  (a  unity  which  would  be  transcendent 
with  respect  to  the  individual  consciousnesses,  each  of 
which  is  again  transcendent  with  respect  to  every  other). 

This  problem  is  truly  the  Greatest,  because  on  its 
solution  depends  that  of  the  others,  and  the  precise  and 

1  This  concept  is  by  no  means  essential  to  religion,  since  we  see  it 
explicitly  contradicted  by  formulas,  certainly  not  meaningless,  which  form 
part  of  the  surest  Christian  doctrine. 


Conclusion  269 

exact  meaniiig  which  we  must  attribute  to  the  solution 
of  the  others.  Only  after  having  solved  it  shall  we 
have  a  clear,  final,  valuable  concept  of  reality,  of  our- 
selves, and  of  our  situation  in  comparison  with  reality. 
How  can  we  solve  it  ? 

The  lamentations,  not  yet  out  of  fashion,  as  to  the 
limits  of  human  reason  are  unjustified.  For  the 
solution  of  the  Great  Problems  we  do  not  require 
the  distinct  cognition  of  every  particular.  A  general 
concept  of  the  organisation  of  the  whole  is  sufficient, 
and  the  whole  is  organised  by  a  reason  which  in  the 
main  coincides  with  ours.  And  yet  those  lamentations 
are  not  altogether  beside  the  point.  The  distrust  of 
reason  is  unjustified ;  what  is  justified  is  the  distrust 
of  theoretical  reason  alone.  The  agnostic  error  is  based 
on  the  confused  perception  of  this  important  truth,  that 
the  universe  is  not  only  a  collection  of  contents  variable 
according  to  certain  laws,  but  includes  also  values  which 
are  essential  to  it. 

That  it  may  be  possible  to  penetrate  the  rational 
organisation  of  the  universe,  we  must  neglect  none  of  the 
fundamental  characteristics  of  the  universe  and  of  reason. 
To  construct  a  theory  without  caring  about  practice 
is  contrary  to  common  sense.  Theory  must  be  the 
theory  of  practice,  and  it  is  itself  a  practice.  To  know 
signifies  to  value.  The  Great  Problems  are  problems  of 
values. 

About  the  concept  of  value  to  which  we  have  come, 
there  are  two  remarks  to  be  made.  (1)  The  lines  which 
we  have  positively  laid  down  are  exact  and  definite  ; 
no  further  investigation  can  cancel  or  change  them.  In 
the  field  of  Unites  (we  said)  the  greatest  value,  the  true 
and  absolute  value,  is  that  of  the  person.  It  is  realised 
by  the  individual  spontaneity,  which  renders  itself 
conscious  of  universal  reason  and  adapts  itself  to  it.  To 


270  The  Great  Problems 

deny  this  is  to  fail  to  know  value.  It  is  like  admitting 
that  a  number  can  at  the  time  be  prime  and  divisible  by 
another.  (2)  But  the  concept  of  value  to  which  we 
have  attained  is  not  altogether  adequate.  Further 
investigations  can  and  must,  without  cancelling  or 
changing  the  lines  positively  laid  down,  introduce  new 
ones.  In  fact,  and  by  abstracting  from  all  other 
questions  (unsolved  indeed,  but  secondary  for  us),  we  do 
not  deduce  either  the  permanence  or  non-permanence  of 
value. 

Value  will  or  will  not  be  permanent  according  as  the 
divine  personality  does  or  does  not  exist.  But  if  we 
limit  ourselves  to  a  theoretical  consideration  of  the 
universe,  the  existence  of  a  personal  God  appears  to  us 
an  unjustified  hypothesis.  A  doctrine  which  does  not 
admit  presuppositions  (and  no  doctrine  ought  to  admit 
them)  must  eliminate  them.  So  that,  to  decide  if  value 
is  or  is  not  permanent,  or  to  form  a  definite  concept  of 
the  universe  and  of  our  position  in  comparison  with  the 
universe,  there  is  no  other  way  than  by  fully  grasping 
the  concept  of  value.  So,  and  so  only,  as  it  seems,  can 
we  also  ascertain  whether  God  does  or  does  not  exist  as 
a  person. 

The  problem  is  more  difficult  than  all  those  which 
we  have  solved  or  attempted  hitherto.  We  shall  see 
presently  the  reasons  for  this  greater  difficulty.  To 
discuss  it  thoroughly,  we  should  need  a  special  book ; 
let  us  be  content  for  the  present  to  state  it  as  clearly 
and  precisely  as  we  can. 

Some  say,  "  What  is  the  good  of  toiling,  conquering 
ourselves,  renouncing  pleasure,  refusing  to  avoid  avoid- 
able pain,  if  all  this  produces  no  lasting  fruit?"  Idle 
talk.  He  who  docs  not  make  efforts  to  attain  his  own 
value  as  a  person  escapes,  it  is  true,  the  burdensome 
fatigue  which  is  required  to  do  so,  but  he  will  be  no 


Conclusion  27 1 

better  off  as  an  animal,  or,  rather,  he  will  be  worse  off. 
Even  from  the  eudaemonistic  standpoint,  the  only  safe 
conduct  is  reasonable  conduct.  The  value  of  the  person 
remains,  even  if  not  permanent,  yet  the  greatest  in 
the  field  of  finites — a  maximum  both  in  line  of  fact 
and  in  line  of  possibility.  The  contrary  opinion  is  not 
worth  discussing — it  should  be  rejected  as  unworthy. 

But  we  can  agree  in  recognising  the  value  of  the 
person,  and  yet  differ  in  the  interpretation  of  it.  On 
the  one  hand  we  note  :  the  world,  though  not  a  paradise, 
contains  pleasures  which  only  a  mad  preoccupation  can 
make  us  believe  negligible.  And  the  pains,  which  are 
not  lacking,  hinder  us  from  rusting ;  they  serve  us  as 
a  school,  and  spur  us  on  to  the  conquest  of  value. 
Reasonable  conduct  implies  a  manly  acceptance  of  the 
necessary  laws,  including  those  which  terrify  the  timid. 
And  as  it  becomes  habitual,  it  inspires  us  with  that 
courage  of  which  we  certainly  have  great  need,  and 
which  for  that  very  reason  is  an  essential  element  of 
value.  No  one  can  assure  himself  or  another  of  a 
stable  happiness.  But  one  who  is  not  content  with 
his  own  personal  value,  but  demands  happiness  as  well, 
proves  thereby  that  he  has  not  actualised  his  personal 
value. 

On  the  other  hand,  it  is  objected,  "  Does  not  the 
doctrine  set  forth — lofty  certainly  and  austere,  but  not 
pessimistic — demand  from  man  more  than  man,  with 
rare  exceptions,  is  capable  of  achieving?  "  To  have  value 
we  must  know  how  to  face  pain  and  support  it  with 
firmness.  But  there  are  pains — moral  as  well  as  physio- 
logical— which  surpass  the  common  power  of  resistance. 
One  who  suffers  them  without  beinir  comforted  by  the 

O  J 

well-founded  hope  of  a  lasting  compensation  is  conquered 
by  them.  His  personality,  without  being  destroyed,  is 
prostrated  by  them.  The  man  then  suffers  without 


272  The  Great  Problems 

power  of  resistance  or  self-adaptation.  Degradation  is 
added  to  pain,  and  caused  by  it.  The  person  survives 
only  to  find  that  his  value  is  destroyed. 

Men  who,  all  considered,  are  favoured  by  fortune, 
because  they  know  that  their  sufferings  will  not  be 
entirely  vain — men  who  sacrifice  themselves  for  a  great 
cause,  like  soldiers  who  give  their  life  for  victory- 
suppose  that  all  are  in  the  same  conditions.  They 
imagine  that  all  have  their  strength  of  resistance — or 
what  they  think  they  have,  while  the  suffering  is  remote 
and  does  not  threaten.  But  these  favourites  of  fortune 
are  very  few.  And,  at  bottom,  the  favours  which  those 
few  enjoy  are  illusory.  What  is  there  that  we  can 
truly  call  a  great  cause,  if  not  only  the  individual  person 
but  the  whole  of  humanity  is  to  disappear  sooner  or 
later  without  leaving  the  slightest  trace  of  itself?  Do 
a  thousand  or  ten  thousand  generations  count  for  more, 
— are  they  of  more  value,  in  comparison  with  eternity— 
than  the  life  of  a  man,  than  one  single  instant  ? 

We  aspire  to  happiness,  and  we  cannot  free  ourselves 
from  this  aspiration  ;  and  if  we  could  it  is  more  than 
doubtful  if  we  ought  to.  The  aspiration  towards  animal 
enjoyment  must  be  fought  against.  To  fight  it  and 
to  conquer  it  is  necessary  for  the  realisation  of  value — 
is  a  part  of  it.  But  here  we  are  speaking  of  the  aspira- 
tion towards  a  happiness  founded  on  value,  which  is 
constituted  by  the  agreement  between  all  the  elements 
of  the  person.  If  such  a  happiness  were  not  attainable, 
value  would  not  be  attainable  either,  for  value  also 
consists  in  just  this  agreement. 

And  the  agreement  does  not  exist  unless  it  is 
permanent.  A  system  which  must  necessarily  dis- 
organise itself  or  be  disorganised  (it  is  all  the  same,  for 
its  external  relations  also  form  part  of  a  system) — is 
already  potentially  disorganised.  To  know  that  it 


Conclusion  273 

will  be  disorganised  and  at  the  same  time  to  value  it  as 
if  actually  fully  organised  and  harmonious,  is  contrary 
to  common  sense.  No  one  is  content  with  the  immediate 
present.  No  one  would  rejoice  at  the  birth  of  a  son 
if  he  foresaw  that  in  a  few  days  both  son  and  mother 
would  be  dead.  The  present  only  has  value  in  relation 
to  the  near  future,  and  this  only  has  value  in  relation 
to  one  more  remote,  and  so  ad  infinitum.  Man  cannot 
help  asking  about  the  future.  He  does  so  always.  And 
yet  he  asks  vaguely,  and  contents  himself  with  a  no  less 
vague  answer.  The  consciousness,  only  partially  explicit, 
which  he  has  of  himself  and  of  things  does  not  permit 
him  to  understand  the  true  meaning  and  the  gravity  of 
the  question.  Therefore  he  imagines  unreasonably  that 
he  can  content  himself  with  what  cannot  content  him — 
with  what  in  fact  does  not  content  him.  We  understand 
the  meaning  and  the  gravity  of  the  question.  And  we 
say, — If  values  were  not  permanent  they  would  not 
exist.  But  they  do  exist,  and  this  is  put  beyond  dispute 
even  by  the  considerations  urged  by  our  opponents ; 
therefore  they  are  permanent.  The  individual  person  is  a 
product  of  reality — though  not  every  element  of  the  person 
is  a  product.  So  far  granted  ;  but  reality  could  not  pro- 
duce the  person  with  the  requirement  which  is  implicit 
in  it,  if  this  requirement  were  intrinsically  unable  to  be 
satisfied,  if  it  were  unreasonable.  A  reality  in  which 
values  arise  must  possess  a  lasting  intrinsic  value  of 
its  own,  in  which  the  individual  values  agree,  realise 
themselves,  and  in  some  way  perpetuate  themselves. 
Happiness  and  value  can  be  contrasted  in  many  cases, 
but  the  contrast  must  be  a  means  to  the  realisation  of 
the  harmony  of  a  value  which  is  at  the  same  time 
happiness  and  lasting.  If  not,  reality  would  be  incom- 
prehensible and  absurd. 

Personal    value    certainly   does    not   vanish   entirely 


274  The  Great  Problems 

even  if  we  do  not  admit  its  permanence.  Something 
remains  of  it,  and  something  normally  superior  to  normal 
pleasures  and  pains  which  can  be  subdued  by  the  normal 
man.  But  it  loses  that  absolute  supremacy  that  we  still 
ought  to  recognise  in  it.  It  becomes  comparable  to 
pleasure  and  pain,  though  of  a  different  nature  from 
either.  Like  these,  in  fact,  it  is  a  motive  of  our  actions, 
higher  because  more  stable,  but  not  absolutely  higher, 
because  not  absolutely  stable. 

To  sum  up.  According  to  some,  the  absolute 
supremacy  of  personal  value,  its  true  characteristic  of 
value,  implies  its  permanence.  According  to  others,  it 
is  essential  to  value,  on  the  contrary,  not  to  imply  per- 
manence, though  this  does  not  prove  it  to  be  transitory. 
To  believe  that  value  is  not  supreme,  is  not  true  value, 
unless  it  is  permanent,  is  to  fail  to  recognise  the  very 
essence  of  value. 

The  opposition  between  the  two  concepts  is  radical. 
Each  excludes  the  other,  but  from  this  mutual  exclusion 
what  can  we  deduce  ?  To  choose  between  the  two,  it 
would  be  necessary,  as  we  noted,  to  comprehend 
thoroughly  the  concept  of  value,  to  see  how  to  introduce 
into  it  other  features.  But,  as  we  also  noted,  the  choice 
cannot  be  a  question  of  pure  theory.  Of  the  two  which 
are  before  us,  which  is  the  concept  of  real  value — of 
value  as  it  is  lived  and  actualized  in  the  fullness  of 
upright  consciousness  ? 

Here  we  encounter  the  difficulty  of  which  we  spoke, 
the  greatest  that  philosophy  has  to  overcome.  For  the 
concept  of  value,  in  respect  of  the  elements  of  it  which 
still  remain  indefinite,  the  touchstone  of  comparison  is  in 
the  end  the  individual  consciousness.  But  not  every 
individual  consciousness  can  be  a  good  touchstone,  but 
only  the  upright  consciousness  of  the  truly  virtuous 
man.  I  do  not  mean  of  the  man  who  respects  the  rules 


Conclusion  275 

of  health,  of  prudence,  and  of  external  decorum,  who 
lives  among  his  equals  without  jostling  them  or  being 
jostled  by  them,  who  keeps  his  balance  in  equilibrium 
from  every  point  of  view.  Such  a  man  enjoys  public 
esteem  and  deserves  it,  but  perhaps  his  principal  aim  is 
to  win  it,  and  before  the  tribunal  of  reason  his  value  is 
nil.  Neither  do  I  mean  the  man  who  has  no  failings ; 
I  believe  there  are  no  men  so  perfect.  I  mean  the  man 
whose  will  is  always  directed  towards  the  good,  although 
he  does  not  always  realise  it.  Only  this  man  knows 
thoroughly  the  true  good,  the  true  personal  value.  He 
knows  it  because  he  lives  it  within  the  limits  of  the 
possible. 

We  find  ourselves  brought  back  to  a  point  on  which 
we  touched  at  the  beginning  of  this  work.  To  know 
the  truth,  and  in  particular  this  which  is  the  supreme 
truth,  we  must  be  ex  veritate.  We  must  be  pure  of 
heart,  we  must  desire  only  that  which  in  itself  is  desir- 
able, we  must  consider  and  feel  as  good  and  as  value 
that  which  in  itself  is  good  and  is  value. 

We  must  have  a  lofty,  a  really  lofty  feeling.  In 
words,  there  is  no  one  who  does  not  recognise  the 
supreme  value  of  virtue.  In  fact,  many  call  virtue  that 
which  we  ought  in  reason  rather  to  call  vice — vice  which 
is  not  recognised  externally,  which  escapes  the  sanctions 
of  opinion  and  perhaps  even  of  remorse — vice  hidden 
but  radical,  and  therefore  so  much  the  more  serious  in 
its  consequences. 

Although  we  all  have  one  and  the  same  reason,  men 
can  be  divided  into  two  classes,  good  and  bad,  according 
to  the  fundamental  use  which  they  make  of  that  reason. 
The  difference  in  certain  theoretical  opinions  is  only 
an  expression  of  the  difference  in  practical  valuations. 
Theoretical  error  is  in  every  case  the  expression  of  a 
practical  disagreement  between  the  person  and  reality. 


276  The  Great  Problems 

The  activity  which  affirms  is  the  same  as  that  which 
works.  Affirmation  reduces  itself  to  action — is  sub- 
stantially an  acting.  Conversely,  the  conscious  acting 
of  a  person  is  always  directed  according  to  his  affirmation 
and  presupposes  an  affirmation.  As  the  relations  with 
reality  are  an  essential  element  of  the  person,  it  is  clear 
that  the  disagreement  between  the  person  and  reality 
implies  an  intrinsic  disagreement  in  the  person — a  dis- 
agreement which  can  be  more  or  less  explicitly  appre- 
hended, because  the  individual  person  never  has  complete 
consciousness  even  of  that  part  of  reality  which  belongs 
to  him  particularly,  much  less  of  all  reality. 

Hence  an  error,  a  discord,  always  wounds  the 
internal  organisation  in  which  personal  value  consists. 
True,  it  does  not  always  wound  it  in  the  same  way. 
Premature  baldness  and  blindness  are  both  maladies,  but 
not  equally  serious.  The  individual  person  is  incapable 
of  completely  bringing  into  system  around  him  all  pos- 
sible internal  and  external  experience.  His  limitations 
are  extenuating  circumstances  for  many  errors,  which  in 
consequence  cannot  be  called  faults.  A  man  may  be  a 
worthy  man  even  if  he  thinks  the  diamond  more  like 
glass  than  charcoal. 

But  these  extenuating  circumstances  can  no  longer 
be  appealed  to  when  we  are  treating,  not  of  the  systema- 
tisation  attained  but  of  the  point  which  ought  to  serve 
as  centre  to  the  systematisation,  of  the  law  according  to 
which  one  strives  to  organise  himself  (how  far  he 
succeeds  is  another  matter).  Here  theory  and  practice 
are  merged  and  identified.  Tt  is  impossible  that  my 
conscious  intentional  action  should  be  conformed  to  a 
law  which  I  do  not  recognise.  Conversely,  my  not 
recognising  it  (I  do  not  say  my  inability  to  formulate  it 
precisely)  may  be  only  a  consequence  of  my  not  con- 
forming to  the  law. 


Conclusion  277 

The  conclusion  is  now  manifest.  Let  us  suppose,  in 
the  first  place,  that  value  is  not  permanent,  and  that 
I  consider  permanence  essential  to  it ;  in  the  second 
place,  that  value  is  permanent,  and  that  I  consider  non- 
permanence  essential  to  it.  In  both  cases  I  yield  to  a 
desire  which  is  certainly  a  product  of  my  soul,  but 
which  I  must  eliminate  in  order  that  my  soul  may  con- 
form, as  far  as  it  is  able  and  willing,  to  the  universal 
law.  I  am  running  after  a  dream  of  my  own,  whereas 
the  realisation  of  my  value  requires  me  to  renounce  my 
dreams. 

The  dream,  quite  different  in  the  two  cases,  can 
always  be  reduced  to  the  exaggeration  of  an  element  of 
value. 

Each  man,  in  the  field  of  human  experience,  ought  to 
be  good  and  energetic.  He  ought  to  work  for  others, 
and  count  on  the  aid  of  others  ;  he  ought,  moreover, 
never  to  lose  sight  of  himself,  and  ought  to  render 
himself  capable  of  sufficing  for  himself.  In  the  field  of 
human  experience,  the  two  requirements,  far  from  ex- 
cluding each  other,  integrate  each  other.  Only  the  good 
are  truly  energetic  ;  only  the  energetic  are  truly  good. 

But  man — meaning  the  social  man— is  to  be  con- 
sidered also  in  relation  to  the  whole,  and  not  merely 
in  his  relations  to  other  men.  And  we  ask,  in  reference 
to  his  relations  to  the  whole,  can  man,  or  can  he  not, 
count  on  extrinsic  aid  ? *  In  other  words,  can  he,  or 
can  he  not,  count  on  a  universal  law  which  assures  the 
success  of  his  efforts  if  well  directed  ?  Can  he,  or  can 
he  not,  count  on  the  permanence  of  values  ? 

Evidently  if  he  cannot,  he  ought  not  to  count  on 
it.  Goodness,  preserving  its  value  in  the  relations  of 
man  to  man,  lias  no  value  at  all  in  reference  to  the 

1  Extrinsic,  in  the  same  st.-nse  in  which  the  aid  which  comes  from  another 
man,  is  extrinsic  to  each  of  us. 


278  The  Great  Problems 

relations  of  man  to  the  whole.  To  attribute  to  it  a 
value  which  it  has  not  is  to  let  ourselves  be  conquered 
by  a  dream  of  morbid  sentimentality.  The  supreme 
law  of  the  person  is  a  law  in  this  case  not  of  goodness 
but  of  energy.  We  must  still  be  good  (with  our  equals), 
but  only  in  so  far  as  being  good  is  a  condition  of  being 
strong.  We  must  so  rule  ourselves  as  to  be  ready  to 
face  any  fate  whatever  without  hope  of  compensation. 
We  must  persuade  ourselves  that  in  having  so  ruled 
ourselves  consists  the  reality  of  our  value. 

But,  no  less  evidently,  if  man  can  count  on  the 
permanence  of  values,  he  ought  to  do  so.  In  the  re- 
lations of  man  to  the  whole,  and  hence  also  in  reference 
to  the  intrinsic  constitution  of  the  person,  the  true 
law,  then,  is  a  law  of  goodness.  Energy  preserves  a 
great  value  without  doubt,  but  as  a  condition  of  good- 
ness, as  subordinate  to  goodness.  In  this  case,  to  per- 
suade ourselves  that  the  reality  of  our  value  consists 
in  so  governing  ourselves  as  to  face  fortune  with  firmness 
without  hoping  for  a  compensation  is  to  let  ourselves 
be  conquered  by  a  dream  of  mad  pride. 

The  permanence  of  values  must  be  either  asserted 
or  denied.  There  is  no  middle  course.  The  two  tend- 
encies which  would  lead  us  to  assert  or  deny  it  respec- 
tively unite  (as  we  noted)  in  the  limited  field  of  human 
experience.  But  in  the  field  of  complex  happening, 
considered  in  its  totality,  one  only  is  fundamentally 
true  and  valid.  Which  of  the  two  ?  Virtue  does  not 
exist  in  the  mean  here,  where  there  is  no  mean.  It 
exists  in  the  truth.  But  conversely,  the  truth  is  that 
which  is  recognised  by  virtue,  and  cannot  be  recognised 
in  any  other  way.  The  problem  is  thus  set  out  in 
its  true  terms ;  it  remains  to  be  solved. 

The  writer  believes  in  the  permanence  of  values.  But 
naturally  he  cannot  give  as  an  argument  his  own  per- 


Conclusion  279 

suasion,  however  firm  it  is,  and  however  well  justified 
it  appears  to  him. 

The  unity  of  reason  assures  us  that  the  influence 
of  diversity  in  practical  criteria — let  us  say  simply  the 
influence  of  wickedness — will  gradually  be  restricted. 
A  time  will  come  when  the  bad  will  have  to  be  content 
with  doing  wrong,  and  will  no  longer  be  able  to  assume 
the  appearance  of  justifying  their  own  erroneous  valua- 
tions with  systems  which  seem,  but  are  not,  coherent 
with  systems  which  have  the  appearance  of  truth.  That 
moment  will  come.  One  who  has  confidence  in  the  des- 
tinies of  man  and  in  the  power  of  reason  cannot  doubt 
it.  But  it  has  not  yet  come,  and  we  must  prepare  for 
it.  To  contribute  to  such  preparation  was  the  only 
end  which  I  proposed  to  myself  in  writing. 


APPENDIX 


GENERAL    CONSIDERATIONS 

"  THE  book  is  completed  and  closed  ..."  and,  all  considered, 
it  is  a  difficult  book. 

I  am  not  speaking  of  the  matter.  I  did  not  wish  to  write 
a  "popular"  book  on  philosophy,  nor  could  anyone  reasonably 
pretend  to  do  so.  But  on  every  subject  one  can  write  in  such 
a  way  that  a  well-prepared  reader  can  understand  it  without 
too  much  fatigue.  The  fatigue  which  I  have  imposed  on  my 
readers  is,  however,  really  excessive. 

The  reason  of  the  difficulty  lies  in  its  excessive  brevity. 
In  the  first  place  (there  is  no  one  who  does  not  know  this) 
things  easily  escape  us  unless  they  are  repeated.  My  book 
certainly  does  not  lack  repetitions.  I  have  not  allowed  the 
more  important  things  to  escape  notice.  I  have  rather  sought 
opportunities  for  repeating  them.  Certain  points  are  dealt  with 
again  and  again  with  perhaps  too  much  insistence.  But  mere 
repetitions  are  not  the  most  helpful  to  us,  but  rather  those 
which  bring  before  us  as  we  proceed  different  aspects  and 
relations  of  the  matter  under  consideration. 

Quite  a  small  number  of  experiments,  all  alike,  will  make 
even  a  baby  know  that  water  quenches  thirst,  but  to  make 
anyone  understand  the  importance  of  water  in  nature  and 
life  much  more  is  required.  We  must  have  made  many 
varied  observations  which  present  water  to  us  under  its 
different  forms,  in  its  manifold  relations,  to  make  ourselves 
recognise  in  water  an  element  essential  to  a  largo  number 
of  bodies  and  processes.  The  depth  of  the  meaning  of  the 
term  "water"  is  sounded  only  by  a  scientist. 

All    will   have   grasped.    I    hope,   that   certain   concepts  are 


282  The  Great  Problems 

fundamental  to  my  book,  but  their  importance  lies  in  their 
being  fundamental  to  thought,  and  not  only  to  that  order  of 
thoughts  which  I  have  set  forth.  Between  my  readers  and  me 
my  inkstand  is  an  intermediary  which  I  know  I  can  trust.  I 
have  no  idea  of  excusing  myself  for  lack  of  intrinsic  clearness 
in  my  argument.  That  clearness  which  comes  from  the  multi- 
plicity of  relations  is  necessarily  lacking,  for  I  have  had  to 
content  myself  with  merely  indicating  the  relations  when  I 
have  not  omitted  them  altogether. 

Another  circumstance  must  not  be  neglected.  It  was  my 
purpose  to  construct,  in  its  general  lines,  a  system  which  should 
be  independent  of  all  presuppositions.  And,  frankly,  I  think 
I  have  accomplished  my  intent.  But  it  may  be  that  the  fewness 
of  the  steps  in  the  development  may  sometimes  give  ground  for 
the  contrary  belief. 

Take,  for  instance,  the  chapter  on  Sensation.  The  opinion 
which  we  have  in  general  about  external  reality  implies  sup- 
positions absurd  as  well  as  arbitrary.  But  they  have  become 
habitual  to  us.  Therefore  we  not  only  fail  to  perceive  their 
absurdity  and  arbitrariness,  but  we  do  not  even  apprehend  that 
their  admission  is  a  supposition.  A  different  doctrine,  which 
limits  itself  to  the  connected  exposition  of  facts,  and  renounces 
every  supposition,  offends  our  habits,  and  hence  appears  to  us 
paradoxically  hypothetical.  It  seems  to  us  hypothetical  pre- 
cisely because  it  is  not  so,  because  we  see  those  hypotheses  in 
whose  favour  we  are  prejudiced  excluded  from  it. 

That  the  reader  may  become  capable  of  it,  we  must  lay  the 
doctrine  before  him  at  great  length  and  in  full  detail.  We 
must  place  before  his  eyes  its  different  applications,  and  compel 
him  by  so  doing  to  recognise  that  by  means  of  it  we  can  solve 
the  problems  which  he  thinks  he  has  solved — but  in  reality  has 
not — by  the  doctrine  he  is  used  to,  and  many  others  which  by 
the  ordinary  doctrine  are  transformed  into  so  many  enigmas. 
We  must  saturate  him  with  the  new  doctrine  at  such  length  as 
to  familiarise  it  to  him.  In  such  a  way  only  can  we  succeed  in 
conquering  that  species  of  unreasonable  but  instinctive  terror 
which  the  unprepared  mind  experiences  iu  the  iirst  stages. 

On  a  doctrine  which  will  seem  paradoxical  I  only  write  a  few 
pages.  These  ought  to  suffice,  because  they  include  all  that  is 
necessary  to  explain  and  prove  it.  Strictly  speaking,  more  would 


General  Considerations  283 

be  superfluous.  But  the  superfluous  is  a  necessary  thing  for 
slovenly  readers. 

"  I  believe,  and  believe  I  believe  the  truth,"  that  the 
doctrine  is  sound,  alike  on  its  general  side  and  in  the  par- 
ticulars. There  are  few  particulars,  because  this  is  a  general 
treatise.  Yet  all  the  essential  ones  are  there,  and  I  hold  to 
them  no  less  than  to  the  general  side  of  my  treatise.  I  do 
not  know  what  to  do  with  empty  abstractions.  I  am  ready  to 
defend  them  *  all,  or,  rather,  I  am  persuaded  that  they  can  well 
defend  themselves.  In  indicating  the  brevity  of  my  diction 
I  surrender  nothing.  I  only  wish  to  warn  critics  that  their 
function  is  rendered  a  little  more  difficult. 

I  do  not  make  quotations.  From  my  book  alone,  it  might 
be  believed  that  my  doctrine  was  a  product  of  my  solitary 
reflection;  and  this  will  be  a  great  hindrance  to  comprehend- 
ing it.  The  meaning  of  a  doctrine  which  has  a  meaning  and  a 
value  lies  in  its  relations  with  others,  in  its  being  an  inter- 
pretation and  a  complement  of  the  others. 

There  is  no  need  for  me  to  explain  what  has  obliged  me  to 
limit  myself  to  a  mere  exposition,  leaving  out  altogether  or 
barely  indicating  references.  My  book  would  have  had  to  be 
at  the  least  twice  as  long  to  give  my  readers  the  means  of 
assigning  to  my  doctrine  the  place  which  befits  it  among  others. 

But  1  write  for  those  who  have  knowledge,  not  for  be- 
ginners, and  hence  the  inconvenience  of  which  1  am  speaking 
is  greatly  reduced,  though  it  does  not  entirely  vanish.  One 
who  knows  will  find  in  my  book  no  more  than  indications,  but 
they  will  be  enough  to  enable  him  to  realise  the  position  if  he 
wishes  to  do  so.  This  is  a  matter  into  which  I  cannot  enter. 
There  is  one  very  convenient  way  to  judge  the  erudition  of  a 
writer,  viz.  to  count  his  quotations.  Ono  who  applies  this 
criterion  to  me  will  fancy  he  can  dispose  of  me  in  a  couple  of 
words.  He  is  welcome  to  do  so.  A  truly  learned  man  in  good 
faith  will  recognise  that  ray  book,  though  so  small,  has  been 
composed  much  more  through  reading  than  writing.  The 
doctrines  set  forth  in  it  are  by  no  means  my  own  imaginings. 
There  is  little  that  is  new,  and  what  there  is  is  a  necessary, 
natural,  and  obvious  consequence  of  what  is  known  and  in 

1  -i.e.  the  essential  particulars — not,  of  course,  the  empty  abstrac- 
tions.—T. 


284  The  Great  Problems 

general  has  been  long  known.  The  original  matter  can  be 
reduced  to  my  having  made  some  comparisons.  Certain  com- 
parisons being  made,  everyone  immediately  understands  how 
certain  doctrines,  apparently  alien  or  contrary,  mutually  inte- 
grate each  other  and.  so  to  speak,  flow  into  one. 

Though  less  than  it  might  seem  at  first  sight,  there  is  incon- 
venience in  this.  The  doctrines  presented  without  explicit 
references  to  others  already  known  are  of  necessity  less  clear. 
The  following  notes  will  be  of  some  service  in  elucidating  them ; 
full  clearness  and  their  final  justification  can  only  result  from 
a  reconstruction  or  a  historical  deduction.  The  present  work 
ought  to  be  followed,  I  hope  before  long,  by  another,  in  which 
I  shall  put  in  evidence  how  the  solutions  obtained  to  the  Great 
Problems  are  the  results  of  the  development  which  philosophy 
has  been  slowly  undergoing.  I  could  have  wished  to  publish 
the  two  books  together,  but  it  was  impossible. 

Some  will  think  that  it  would  have  been  better  to  unite 
them,  and  reduce  them  systematically  to  one.  I  think  other- 
wise. To  one  who  has  conquered  the  difficulties  of  the  exposition 
— and  to  an  educated  reader  they  are  not  insuperable — the 
brevity  of  the  work  and  its  purely  expository  character  will 
render  it  easier  to  form  a  concept  of  the  whole.  The  historical 
discussion  which  follows  will  thus  find  a  sure  connection,  and 
prove  more  definite  and  more  profitable.1 

These  Appendices  are  not  a  provisional  supplement  of  the 
historical  investigation,  and  they  do  not  constitute  a  part  of  it. 
They  serve  (not  all  of  them,  but  most)  to  establish  certain 
points  of  contact  between  the  doctrine  set  forth  and  other 

1  "Dass  es  gewagt  ist,  Neues  und  Wichtiges  in  so  engen  Rahmen 
zusammenzudrangen,  ist  mir  vollstundig  klar,  aber  ebenso  klar,  dass  ich  es 
wagen  mussto.  Der  Vorteil  aus  dor  Klarheit  und  Uebersichtlichkeit  des 
Gedankenganges  schien  mir  grosser,  als  der  Nachtheil,  dor  aus  dem  Mangel 
an  Ausfiihrung  erwachsen  kann."  (\V.  SCHTPPK:  Grdrix.  d.  Erkenntnissth. 
und  Log.;  Berlin,  1894,  p.  iii.)  The  "Klarheit"  is  problematical  (in  fact 
Schuppe's  book  is  not  easy).  Or  rather  we  must  make  a  distinction.  A 
compendious  book,  without  developments  and  historical  references,  is  hard 
to  understand,  and  in  this  sense  not  clear.  But,  this  difficulty  once  over- 
come, it  gives  us  a  precise  and  brilliant  conception  of  the  whole.  It  then 
becomes  clear  in  this  sense — that  its  inner  organisation  appears  to  us 
evidently  ;  whereas  a  diffuse  book  is  read  and  understood  without  difficulty 
page  by  page,  but  the  problem  which  then  arises,  how  to  draw  the  true 
final  profit  from  it,  proves  much  mure  difficult  ui  solution. 


General  Considerations  285 

doctrines,  more  or  less  analogous,  of  well-known  recent  writers. 
Therefore  they  take  from  ithe  doctrine  set  forth  that  apparent 
solitude  which  we  said  was  the  principal  obstacle  to  the  pene- 
tration of  its  meaning.  Few  in  number  and  fragmentary,  they 
only  elucidate  some  points  and  some  aspects  of  the  doctrine 
expounded,  and  by  no  means  all  that  needs  elucidation.  There- 
fore I  do  not  say  "  they  suffice,"  but  only  "  they  will  be  useful." 
My  previous  publications  have  had  some  readers  to  whom  I 
feel  myself  bound  by  a  particular  obligation.  For  their  sake  I 
think  it  necessary  to  add  here  some  warnings  about  some 
principal  points  of  my  doctrine. 

(A.)  WHAT  is  TRUE  AND  WHAT  is  CONSISTENT 

A  system  S  of  propositions  (which  could  also  be  reduced 
to  a  single  proposition)  is  the  result  of  a  legitimate  deductive 
process — we  say  commonly  that  S  is  true.  1  prefer  to  say  that 
it  is  consistent.  It  is  quite  evident  S  would  not  be  consistent  if 
it  were  not  true.  From  the  process  of  which  it  is  the  result,  S 
receives  an  immediate  sense,  and  in  this  sense  it  is  true  beyond 
discussion.  It  is  in  this  sense  an  element  of  "  Science,"  a 
certain  foundation  for  further  investigations. 

Analogous  investigations  of  another  kind  may  have  con- 
ducted us  similarly  to  another  result  Sp  as  consistent  as  S. 

Let  us  connect  S  with  Sr  It  may  be,  or  rather  it  nearly 
always  happens,  that  the  new  process  of  connection  makes  us 
discover  in  S  or  in  Sp  or  in  both,  a  new  and  deeper  signification. 
This  naturally  does  not  exclude  or  destroy  the  tirst,  nor  does  it 
even  modify  it  in  itself,  but  it  adds  to  it.  and  in  adding  to  it,  it 
integrates  it. 

The  distinction  between  the  simply  consistent  and  the  true 
lies  wholly  in  the  further  signification  which  the  single 
elements  of  that  which  is  consistent  receive  from  their  connec- 
tions. The  true  is  a  system  connected  in  itself.  And  the 
exact  interpretation  of  its  elements  is  that  which  each  element 
receives  from  its  situation  in  the  system.  What  is  consistent  is 
true  in  the  .sv/i.sr  in  irlnclt  if  is  consistent,  but  it  may  become 
an  error  if  we  straightway  attribute  to  it  the  value  of  an 
absolute  truth,  going  unreasonably  beyond  the  process  which 
has  led  us  to  recognise  it  as  something  consistent. 


286  The  Great  Problems 

I  shall  explain  myself  better  by  some  examples.  It  is 
consistent  that  the  sun  at  different  hours  of  the  day  is  seen 
successively  in  different  parts  of  the  sky,  that  it  moves.  But 
this  apparent  movement  may  not  be  the  absolute  movement. 
This  does  not  mean  that  the  knowledge  of  its  apparent  motion 
has  no  value.  (Rather  it  is  an  indispensable  foundation  for 
arriving  at  the  discovery  of  the  true  constitution  of  the  solar 
system.)  The  knowledge  is  true  in  the  sense  in  which  it  is 
consistent;  but  from  its  being  consistent  it  does  not  follow 
that  it  is  true  in  any  other  sense. 

t  Plane  and  spherical  trigonometry  are  alike  consistent. 
But  the  first  implies,  what  the  second  does  not — i.e.  the 
postulate  of  parallels.  Therefore  the  two  trigonometries,  though 
they  have  the  same  scientific  value  (for  each  is  the  result  of  an 
intrinsically  unexceptionable  construction)  have  not  the  same 
value  in  relation  to  an  absolutely  true  conception  of  space. 

Science  is  the  aggregate  of  what  is  consistent.  It  is  not 
chaotic,  but  it  is  not  arranged  in  a  rigorous  unity. 

Metaphysics  is  the  system  of  what  is  absolutely  true. 
Metaphysics  can  only  build  itself  up  on  the  basis  of  science. 
As  long  as  metaphysics  is  not  constructed,  there  can  only  be 
opinions  about  the  solution  of  its  problems. 

In  this,  which  is  my  old  doctrine,  I  have  nothing  to  change. 
I  have  only  accentuated  more  strongly  two  points.  First,  that 
metaphysics  is  constructed  by  making,  not  a  synthesis  of 
(scientific)  cognition,  but  a  theory  of  cognition.  Secondly,  that 
under  the  concept  of  science  as  it  has  been  defined  there  enter 
not  only  the  sciences,  properly  so  called,  but  all  cognitions 
have  scientific  value  as  given  for  philosophic  reflection. 

(B.)   METAPHYSICS  AND  MORALITY  1 

A  conception  of  the  universe  obtained  without  taking 
moral  elements  into  account  has  no  definite  value — it  cannot 
constitute  metaphysics.  This  I  always  aiiirmed,  even  when 
my  reflection — which,  however,  never  remained  extraneous  to 
moral  consideration — turned  by  preference  to  the  results  of 
the  sciences  (especially  physics  and  mechanics). 

I  formulated  in  various  ways,  gradually  perfecting  it  from  a 

1  This  argument  is  discussed  at  greater  length  in  u  succeeding  appendix. 


General  Considerations  287 

scientific  point  of  view,  a  mechanical  conception  of  reality. 
But  I  said — and  I  expressed  my  profound  conviction  of  which 
no  one  can  doubt — that  I  did  not  myself  attribute  to  such  a 
conception  the  value  of  a  definite  metaphysical  truth.  But  as 
for  some  time  I  restricted  myself  to  re-elaborating  it,  and  as 
I  grew  attached  to  it  through  defending  it,  it  might  appear 
(perhaps  it  was  partly  the  case)  that  I  attributed  to  it  an 
increasing  weight.  The  road  on  which  I  had  started  was 
leading  to  frank  materialism.  How  the  moral  values,  or 
values  in  general,  must  be  introduced  into  a  conception  of 
reality,  I  had  not  succeeded  in  discovering.  My  thought  was 
not  in  full  agreement  with  itself. 

Agreement  on  this  point  is  now  obtained.  A  requirement 
which  I  had  never  failed  to  recognise  is  satisfied. 

I  do  not  solve  in  this  book  the  true  cardinal  problem  of 
metaphysics.  A  lacuna,  ever  substantially  the  same,  remains, 
but  with  a  different  signification.  My  past  investigations 
closed  with  a  question :  Is  it  possible  to  find  an  adequate  place 
for  morality  in  a  reality  so  constructed  ?  It  seemed  then  that 
the  answer  must  rather  be  No.  Now  it  is  quite  a  different 
thing.  To  my  conception  of  the  world  value  is  no  longer  ex- 
traneous, and  we  no  longer  seek  if,  or  how,  it  is  possible  to  make 
it  enter.  The  problem  which  remains  to  be  solved  about  the 
conception  of  the  world  can  only  be  solved  (according  to  my 
recent  way  of  looking  at  it)  by  thoroughly  grasping  the  concept 
of  value. 

As  value  is  at  the  same  time  conceived  and  lived  (conceived 
in  so  far  as  lived,  and  lived  in  so  far  as  conceived),  the  thorough 
grasping  of  its  concept  implies  an  elevation  of  the  feeling  with 
which  it  is  associated.  The  importance  of  the  feeling,  on  which 
t  have  many  times  insisted,  is  now,  unless  I  err,  put  in  its  true 
light.  To  arrive  at  the  truth  (so  I  said,  and  so  I  say)  we  must 
be  animated  by  a  right  feeling.  But  the  right  feeling  is  a 
rational  feeling,  one  in  which  there  is  perfect  accord,  or  rather 
identity,  between  the  theoretical  and  the  practical  requirement. 

With  those  more  or  loss  vague  reservations  which  one  who 
has  consciousness  of  the  moral  questions  cannot  get  rid  of.  I 
always  maintained  determinism  as  scientifically  proved.  On 
this  point  my  doctrine  has  radically  changed.  The  change, 
which  serves  to  eliminate  the  contrast  between  the  cognitive 


288  The  Great  Problems 

and  the  practical  requirements,  is  fully  justified  also  by  con- 
siderations of  theory  alone.  I  seem  to  have  made  it  clear  that 
if  we  eliminate  a  multitude  of  absolute  beginnings,  happening 
(implicit  in  knowledge,  for  we  know  facts,  and  our  very  know- 
ledge is  a  fact)  is  no  longer  possible. 

Another  change  of  no  less  importance.  My  doctrine  (with 
the  reservations  indicated)  could  be  described  as  irrationalistic. 
Now  I  understand  that  no  fact  is  possible  outside  the  unity  of  a 
reason,  essential  to  all  that  exists  or  happens.  I  had  erred,  and 
see  clearly  again.  But  I  must  put  forward  two  considerations 
in  order  that  we  may  draw  from  my  confession  the  teaching 
which  is  implicit  in  it. 

If  reason  is  understood  (many  understand  it  in  no  other 
way)  as  a  human  faculty,  something  beyond  reason  cannot  be 
denied.  Now  to  be  beyond  reason  and  to  be  irrational  have 
the  same  meaning.  To  exclude  the  irrational  we  must  see  in 
human  reason  the  consciousness  of  universal  rationality.  This 
in  the  end  amounts  to  saying  that  there  is  a  system  of  thinkables 
to  which  it  is  by  no  means  essential  to  be  thought  by  me  or  by 
anyone  whatever — thinkables  numerically  the  same  in  the  con- 
sciousness of  every  thinker.  These  conclusions,  which  I  content 
myself  with  indicating,  are  not  commonly  accepted.  To  refute 
them,  and  not  to  admit  the  irrationality  of  the  real,  is  contrary 
to  sense. 

If  we  accept  them,  we  must  nevertheless  recognise  that  hap- 
pening in  time  implies  something  that  cannot  be  reduced  to 
pure  logicality.  It  implies  non-logical  elements  (the  absolute 
beginnings  of  which  we  spoke).  The  non-logicality  of  an  ele- 
ment is  not  to  be  confounded  with  irrationality.  The  One, 
without  ceasing  to  be  One,  is  broken  up  into  a  number  of  dis- 
tinct objects.  Every  distinct  object  is  included  in  the  One,  and 
this  inclusion  in  the  One  is  essential  to  it.  Consequently  it  is 
not  beyond  reason.  But  its  being  a  (particular)  distinct  object 
implies  something  which  distinguishes  it  from  the  others  and 
from  the  One.  This  something  cannot,  be  reduced  to  the  pure 
and  simple  One.  It  is  in  the  One,  but  it  is  not  the  One.  It  is 
subject  to  reason,  but  it  is  not  of  itself  reason.  It  is  an  alogical 
something,  such  as  we  have  just  now  recognised  as  an  absolute 
beginning,  essential  to  the  happening  of  facts,  which  it  is  true 
are  connected  together  by  rational  laws,  but  without  their  con- 


General  Considerations  289 

nection  being  reducible  to  a  pure  and  simple  logical  non-tem- 
poral order. 

I  have  made  more  than  once  a  profession  of  simple  em- 
piricism. Needless  to  say,  I  retract.  But  if  I  was  wrong,  we 
must  recognise  that  my  error  was  not  without  reason.  That 
man  is  endowed  with  a  reason  which  has  an  absolute  value 
also  in  reference  to  the  cognition  of  reality,  can  signify  nothing 
but  this :  That  man  is  such  as  to  be  able  to  render  him- 
self conscious  of  the  rationality  inherent  hi  things,  or  of 
their  unity. 

Let  us  leave  aside  every  question  about  the  origin  of  the 
subject.  Let  us  speak  of  the  subject  in  so  far  as  it  has  a 
history  which  is  known,  partially  at  least,  to  itself.  The 
subject  renders  itself  conscious  of  the  rationality  inherent  in 
things,  or  of  their  unity,  or  of  certain  elements  which  are 
(intrinsically)  the  constituents  and  (with  respect  to  our  reflec- 
tion) the  evidences  of  this  unity — space,  time,  the  categories — 
in  so  far  as  it  renders  itself  conscious  of  certain  facts.  A 
rationality  which  is  not  the  rationality  of  facts  and  of  concrete 
objects,  which  cannot  be  reduced  to  the  unity  of  them,  is  a 
meaningless  word.  The  subject  is  rational  in  so  far  as  it  also  is 
an  element  of  a  reality,  which  is  rational  in  so  far  as  it  is  one. 
That  empiricism  is  absurd  which,  supposing  the  irrationality  of 
happening,  supposes  also  that  happening  becomes  ordered  of 
itself  in  the  consciousness  of  the  subject  (which  in  such  a  way 
would  render  itself  rational  by  means  of  experience).  And  in 
the  end  it  can  be  reduced  to  apriorism.  The  arrangement 
which  the  facts  learned  had  not  in  themselves  can  only  be 
introduced  by  the  subject  in  learning  them.  But  that  aprior- 
ism  which  makes  of  reason  an  exclusive  property  of  the  subject, 
which  separates  reason  from  happening,  is  no  less  unjustified, 
no  less  irrational. 

Reason,  says  Ardigo  profoundly,  is  the  rhythm  of  experience. 
Facts  (naturally  including  those  of  which  a  particular  subject 
has  consciousness)  are  subject  to  rational  laws,  because  they 
occur  in  a  reality  which  is  on**.  But  we  cannot  speak  of  a 
rationality  other  than  that  essential  to  facts.  If  not  every 
subject  is  equally  rational,  that  proves  that  an  explicit  conscious- 
ness of  the  laws  presupposes  a  certain  number  and  a  certain 
variety  in  the  contents  of  consciousness.  Hence  reason,  even 

T 


290  The  Great  Problems 

when  understood  as  the  reason  of  the  subject,  although  it  is 
certainly  not  the  product  of  an  irrational  happening,  yet  cannot 
be  separated  from  happening  or  from  experience. 

(C.)  MATTER  AND  THE  SOUL 

According  to  Mach  (a  very  similar  doctrine  is  maintained 
by  Schuppe),  there  is  no  true  distinction  between  psychical  and 
physical  facts ;  or,  at  least,  only  psychical  facts  occur.  These 
may  be  differently  grouped.  A  subject  is  the  unity  of  certain 
psychical  facts.  A  body  is  also  a  group  of  psychical  facts  (still 
a  unity,  but  of  another  kind)— of  psychical  facts  which  can  be, 
and  in  part  are,  included  in  the  unity  of  a  subject,  and  even  of 
more  than  one  subject. 

I  accept  this  doctrine  which  (this  must  be  said  a  little  more 
emphatically  than  usual)  was  first  set  forth  clearly  and  with 
precision  by  Ardigo. 

We  must  not  confound  the  spiritual  with  the  psychical. 
Psychical  signifies  a  particular,  a  concrete  object,  always  an 
element  of  fact.  Spiritual,  on  the  contrary,  is  relation  or  law. 
Although,  according  to  us,  relations  and  laws  cannot  be  con- 
sidered as  real,  if  we  make  abstraction  from  the  concrete  objects 
(as  we  cannot  speak  of  geometrical  form  except  in  relation  to 
some  matter),  in  every  way  it  is  clear  that,  besides  concrete 
objects,  there  are  relations  and  laws  implicit  in  the  concrete 
objects  themselves.  And  man  is  spiritual  in  this  sense,  that 
his  consciousness  is  capable  of  rendering  relations  and  laws 
explicit  to  itself. 

The  distinction  between  spiritual  on  the  one  hand,  and 
psychical  and  material  (fundamentally  identical  as  we  pointed 
out)  on  the  other,  is  not  conceived  by  us  otherwise  than  by  the 
scholastics  who  followed  the  doctrine  of  Aristotle.  In  the 
text  the  doctrine  is  indicated  without  being  developed.  It 
cannot  be  developed  hero,  and  much  less  put  in  connection 
with  that  of  the  scholastics.  But  that  the  scholastic  doctrine 
and  that  accepted  in  the  text  coincide  substantially  in  identify- 
ing the  psychical  and  the  bodily  and  distinguishing  both  from 
the  spiritual,  results  with  suihcient  clearness  from  the  following 
propositions.1 

1  See  Urrahuru  Cmnp.  Philo*.  frkol.  Madrid.  1002-1,  vol.  iv.  p.  240. 


General  Considerations  291 

(1)  The  intellect  is  a  non-organic  or  spiritual  faculty.  (2) 
There  is  sense  in  every  animal,  intellect  in  rational  animals  only. 

(3)  Sense  knows  only  the  particular,  intellect  knows  the  general. 

(4)  Sense  only  extends  to   material  objects,  while   intellect 
extends  also  to  immaterial  objects.    (5)  Sense  knows  neither 
itself  nor  its  operations,  while  intellect  knows  itself  and  its 
operations. 

It  seems  evident  to  me  that  sense  is  not  something  different 
from  what  we  now  call  matter,  in  other  words,  that  the  physical 
world  can  be  resolved  into  an  aggregate  of  facts  of  conscious- 
ness or  of  psychical  facts — the  reality  of  which  is  not  to  be 
confounded  with  their  inclusion  in  a  determinate  unity  of  con- 
sciousness or  in  the  soul  of  a  determinate  animal.  No  one  will 
say  that  the  soul  of  a  cat  consists  in  its  brain  in  so  tar  as  visible, 
tangible,  &c.,  but  the  brain  is  nothing  but  a  collection  of  visible 
and  tangible  objects,  or  of  sense-perceivables,  or  of  facts  of  con- 
sciousness. The  existence  of  matter  as  something  extraneous 
to  consciousness,  heterogeneous  to  consciousness,  must  abso- 
lutely be  excluded. 

On  the  relations  between  the  simple  consciousness  (sense) 
and  the  self-consciousness  (intellect,  c/.  prop.  5)  there  would  be 
much  to  say.  Here  the  doctrine  accepted  by  us  and  that  of  the 
scholastics  seem  irreducible.  About  this  we  will  say  no  more 
at  present.  The  argument  is  interesting,  but  the  discussion 
would  be  too  long. 

In  my  previous  works  I  had  accepted  a  different  doctrine. 
The  world  (so  I  thought)  is  a  collection  of  primary  elements  or 
monads  which  operate  on  one  another.  The  mutual  actions  of 
the  monads  have  effects  of  two  kinds.  They  determine,  that  is, 
(1)  a  variation  in  each  monad,  (2)  a  variation  among  the  monads, 
or  they  modify  their  grouping  (spatial  distribution).  The  facts 
of  the  tirst  kind  are  psychiad,  those  of  the  second  physical. 

The  doctrine  makes  us  understand  indeed  the  irreducibility 
and  at  the  same  time  the  inseparability  of  the  two  orders  of 
facts:  that  same  t lun <j  which  physically  speaking  would  be  a 
true  atom,  psychically  speaking  would  be  a  soul,  &C.  But  it 
cannot  be  maintained  epistemologically — a  defect  which  it  has 
in  common  with  every  form  of  animistic  pluralism  and  with 
Leibnizian  monadology. 

In  fact,  two  monads  could  have  nothing  in  common.     An 


292  The  Great  Problems 

internal  element  of  the  monad  A  and  another  ot  the  monad  B 
would  in  every  case  be  two;  they  could  never  be  reduced  to 
rigorous  numerical  unity.  Now  the  -possibility  that  one  and 
the  same  element  is  contained  in  the  consciousness  (sensitive 
or  intellectual)  of  two  subjects  is  a  presupposition  essential  to 
cognition.  If  what  Titius  apprehends  in  some  way  is  some- 
thing exclusively  peculiar  to  Titius,  Titius  would  have  no  right 
to  assert — nay,  not  even  the  possibility  of  supposing — the  exist- 
ence of  another  subject.  The  most  rigorous  solipsism  would  be 
inevitable. 

Neither  the  supposed  reciprocal  actions  among  the  monads 
nor  the  pre-established  harmony  of  Leibniz  serve  to  escape  it. 

The  reciprocal  actions  do  not.  For  reciprocal  actions, 
among  absolutely  distinct  monads,  without  anything  in  common, 
would  be  impossible.  And  if  we  get  over  this  difficulty,  an 
impression  which  a  monad  apprehends  is  in  every  case  a  varia- 
tion of  its  own,  and  only  of  its  own.  The  variation  may  be 
violent,  and  the  monad  may  refer  it  necessarily  to  a  cause  other 
than  its  own  will.  But  in  order  that  I  may  represent  to  myself 
a  cause  other  than  my  own  will  as  external,  not  only  to  my  own 
will,  but  to  my  being — in  order  that  the  violence  I  have  under- 
gone may  authorise  me  to  seek  its  cause  in  a  being  distinct 
from  me — I  must  have  the  concept  of  external  and  of  a  being 
distinct  from  me.  This  concept  I  should  not  have  if  the  con- 
tent of  my  thought  could  always  be  reduced  to  a  pure  and 
simple  manner  of  being  exclusively  my  own.  A  subject,  of 
which  there  are  no  constituent  elements  which,  by  the  manner 
in  which  they  are  his,  do  not  show  themselves  at  the  same 
time  as  not  his  exclusively,  cannot  conceive,  much  less  assert, 
another  than  himself.  Not  to  mention  the  fact  that  the  possi- 
bility of  referring  certain  variations  of  mind  to  an  external  cause 
(a  possibility  we  could  not  admit)  does  not  constitute  the 
possibility  of  knowing  this  cause,  or  of  assorting  the  existence 
of  another  subject. 

Nor  does  the  pre-established  harmony  help  us.  We  need 
scarcely  note  that  this  is  far  superior  to  reciprocal  actions. 
Pre-established  harmony  implies  one  law,  a  unity  which  binds 
together  all  the  monads  and  eliminates  their  absolute  separation. 
But  such  a  unity  is  insufficient,  it'  the  distinctions  which  it 
allows  to  exist  are  such  as  to  reduce  the  consciousness  of  each 


General  Considerations  293 

monad  to  elements  exclusively  its  own — in  other  words,  if  the 
monads  have  no  windows,  if  their  mutual  agreement  is  com- 
parable with  the  agreement  of  two  clocks,  neither  of  which  has 
anything  in  common  with  the  other,  except  in  so  far  as  they 
are  both  made  by  the  same  workmen.  The  unity  must  be  not 
extrinsic  but  intrinsic.  It  is  necessary,  not  that  the  monads 
should  be  in  some  way  bound  together,  but  that  they  all  should 
be  essential  to  each,  that  there  should  be  something  which  is  a 
constituent  of  each  and  common  to  all. 

It  is  necessary,  on  the  other  hand,  that  the  distinction 
between  the  one  and  the  other  should  be  conceived  in  such  a 
way  as  not  to  be  reducible  to  an  appearance.  For  there  is  no 
meaning  in  calling  "apparent"  the  irreducible  distinction 
between  the  individual  consciousnesses,  between  the  suffering 
of  Titius  and  that  of  Sempronius,  between  the  knowing  of 
Titius  and  that  of  Sempronius  (I  speak  of  the  knowing,  not  of 
the  thing  known}.  The  knowing  of  Titius  is  not  the  knowing 
of  Sempronius.  The  think  known  by  Titius  is  (or  may  be)  the 
same,  and  numerically  one,  with  that  known  by  Sempronius, 
and  the  knowing  does  not  exist  without  the  thing  known.  The 
monads  are  identified  by  the  one  and  kept  quite  distinct  by  the 
other.  This  is  the  difficulty  we  have  to  overcome.  Hitherto 
it  has  not  been  overcome,  and  I  flatter  myself  I  have  done  so 
substantially  with  my  monadology.  This  seems  to  me  a  happy 
combination  of  the  Leibnizian  and  that  which  I  will  call  the 
atomistic,  adopted  by  me  in  my  previous  essays. 

It  may  be  that  I  have  not  succeeded  in  setting  forth  my 
doctrine  with  sufficient  clearness,  and  that  some  particulars 
may  have  to  be  modified.  I  will  return  to  it  again — my  object 
here  has  been  to  make  clear  the  connection  and  the  difference 
between  this  and  my  other  writings.  For  this  purpose  I  think 
I  have  said  enough. 

Some  time  ago  I  made  profession  of  positivism.  And  1 
have  since  maintained  it,  partly  from  the  sense  of  honour  which 
does  not  allow  us  to  abandon,  in  face  of  the  enemy,  a  banner 
under  v/hich  we  have  ranged  ourselves,  perhaps  without  suffi- 
cient reflection.  But  I  have  always  had  an  extreme  objection 
to  questions  of  words,  of  which  there  arc  too  many.  I  do  not 
wish  to  add  to  their  numbers  for  the  sake  of  a  punctilio. 

"  Polemics  may  have  some  use,  provided  they  do  not  keep 


294  The  Great  Problems 

to  generalities.  To  oppose  one  ism  to  another  is  of  little 
good.  Who  will  class  together  the  idealism  of  Berkeley  with 
that  of  Hegel  ?  Or  the  agnostic  positivism  of  Spencer  with 
that  of  Ardigo  ?  The  value  of  a  doctrine  lies  in  its  content  and 
its  structure,  not  in  any  generic  characteristics  which  it  may 
have  in  common  with  a  hundred  different  others.  We  care  for 
the  truth,  not  for  a  name  to  baptize  it  with.1 

I  called  myself  positivist,  but  in  what  sense  ?  In  this :  That 
philosophy  can  only  solve  its  problems  by  taking  as  its  base 
"  what  is  consistent " — ascertained  knowledge,  science.  Exagge- 
rating the  value  of  the  natural  sciences,  I  committed  an  error 
rather  of  fact  than  of  principle.  The  substance  of  the  method 
called  positivist  by  me  can  be  reduced  to  the  admission  that 
philosophy  is  constructed  by  means  of  the  theory  of  knowledge. 
I  am  still,  and  more  than  ever,  of  the  same  opinion.  I  do  not 
understand  how  it  is  possible  to  be  of  a  different  opinion  and 
yet  study  philosophy. 

Therefore  I  am  still  a  positivist  in  the  sense  in  which  I  had 
declared  myself  such.  But  was  I  right  in  calling  my  doctrine 
positivist  from  the  moment  that  (execution  apart)  I  had  formed 
that  conception  of  it  ? 

Reflecting  that  the  name  of  "  Positivism  "  was  introduced  by 
Comte,  to  denote  his  own  radical  agnosticism,  I  should  say  No. 
Names  count  for  little,  but  if  we  give  the  same  name  to  things 
which,  by  their  characteristics,  are  as  distinct  as  opposites,  we 
shall  give  rise  to  dangerous  confusions.  I  remain  positivist 
in  my  sense,  but  this  meaning  of  mine  is  not  the  most  com- 
monly accepted  one.  The  writing  of  my  name  on  the  roll  of 
positivists  might  make  people  believe  that  I  approve  a  doctrine 
which  seems  to  me  and  always  has  seemed  absurd.  Because  I 
wrote  it  there  years  ago  a  little  carelessly  (though  I  was  not  a 
boy  even  then),  must  I  leave  it  there  for  ever  ?  The  punctilio 
of  not  appearing  a  deserter  must  yield  when  we  recognise  that 
to  maintain  it  would  be  an  offence  against  sincerity.  For  one 
who  keeps  alive  an  ambiguity  offends  against  sincerity. 

Then  I  am  not  a  positivist  (no  longer  one,  if  you  prefer  it), 
but  am  I  an  idealist  I 

I  say  there  is  nothing  real  that  is  not  thinkable  (thinkable, 

1  "Le  Ultime  Induzioni,"  published  by  the  author  in  the  Rivista  di 
Filosofia  of  G.  Marchesini  ;  Padua,  1908,  No.  .'5. 


General  Considerations  295 

I  mean,  by  man).  This  doctrine  can  certainly  be  called  idealism. 
There  are  reasons,  not  only  etymological  but  historical,  for  call- 
ing it  so.  Then  I  am  an  idealist.  But  with  idealism  understood 
in  this  way,  a  non-idealistic  philosophy  is  no  longer  possible. 
Besides  idealism  there  only  remains  agnosticism,  and  to  be  an 
agnostic  is  not  to  follow  a  philosophy — it  is  to  deny  the  pos- 
sibility of  philosophy.  But  I  am  not  an  idealist  in  the  sense  of 
Berkeley.  Nor  yet  in  the  sense  of  Kant,  so  long  as  an  inter- 
pretation of  his  thought,  rejected  by  him,  is  not  admitted. 

According  to  Kant,  man  cannot  know  reality  except  through 
space,  time,  and  the  categories.  I  say  the  same,  word  for  word. 
But  this  cannot  is  not  interpreted  in  the  same  way.  It  means, 
according  to  Kant,  an  absolutely  insuperable  limitation  of 
consciousness;  it  means,  according  to  me  (I  do  not  claim  to 
have  invented  this  doctrine),  that  knowledge  has  no  limitations. 
Space,  time,  the  categories,  says  Kant,  are  constituent  elements 
of  things  as  we  know  them.  I  say  they  are  constituent  elements 
of  things.  From  one  point  of  view  the  difference  is  trifling. 
Space,  time,  and  the  categories  are  for  Kant  only  elements  of 
human  thought.  I  suppress  the  only,  which  seems  to  me 
neither  justified  nor  justifiable.  But  the  difference,  however 
slight,  implies  important  consequences.  The  doctrine  of  Kant 
is  agnostic  or  positivist  in  the  sense  of  Auguste  Comte. 

To  deal  thoroughly  with  the  doctrine  of  Kant,  or  to  discuss 
the  other  forms  of  idealism,  would  mean  to  undertake  an  investi- 
gation which,  as  I  have  already  said,  will  be  the  object  of  a  sepa- 
rate work.  But  it  is  well  known  that  there  are  many  different 
doctrines,  and  that  nevertheless  they  are  given,  and  they  re- 
ceive, the  common  name  of  idealistic.  To  make  an  indetermi- 
nate profession  of  idealism  is  therefore  like  signing  a  blank 
cheque,  and  I  have  no  wish  to  do  so. 

I  have  sot  forth  my  doctrine  tar  too  concisely.  All  of  life 
that  remains  to  mo,  and  it  cannot  be  much,  will  not  be  too  long 
to  develop  it,  to  elucidate  it,  and  to  confirm  it  historically.  But 
I  have  said  enough  for  others  to  form  an  idea  of  it.  Whoever 
wishes  to  know  it  and  judge  it,  must  content  himself  with 
taking  it  as  it  is,  without  label  of  any  sort. 

Among  the  various  and  more  or  loss  genuine  forms  of  ideal- 
ism, there  is  more  than  one  which  implies  solipsism.  And 
among  the  different  arguments  which  have  been  brought  for- 


296  The  Great  Problems 

ward  in  defence  of  idealism  there  is  more  than  one  which,  if 
worked  out,  would  lead  logically  to  solipsism.  This  was  noted 
by  the  idealist  Hartmann,  and  had  already  been  perceived  by 
Schopenhauer.  The  reduction  of  idealism  to  solipsism  which 
has  been  attempted  by  me  in  La  Conoscenza  and  Paralipomeni, 
where  also  the  observations  of  Hartmann  are  summed  up,  seems 
to  me  good  on  the  whole,  and  I  do  not  contradict  it. 

I  was  wrong,  however,  to  speak  generically,  whereas,  to  arrive 
at  conclusions  which  might  have  a  definite  epistemological  and 
metaphysical  value,  it  would  have  been  necessary  to  distinguish. 
But  the  wrong  was  not  mine  only.  The  idealists,  in  the  case  of 
arguments  which  seem  likely  to  embarrass  their  opponents,  or 
those  philosophers  who  call  themselves  by  other  names,  are  not 
wont  to  look  too  closely.  They  accept  and  repeat  with  satis- 
faction, even  at  the  cost  of  attracting  stones  to  their  own  glass 
houses.  We  cannot  do  without  labels,  but  by  their  abuse  a 
spirit  very  like  that  of  sectarianism  is  easily  introduced  into 
philosophy,  which  ought  to  be  an  objective  investigation  of 
truth. 

If  the  world  is  only  an  aggregate  of  representations  or  of  sen- 
sations, as  Mach  says,  solipsism  is  inevitable.  For,  if  the  words 
are  taken  in  their  true  meaning,  there  are  no  representations 
and  sensations  except  those  possessed  by  the  individual  sub- 
jects. Every  subject  has  its  own,  but  it  could  not  admit  others, 
for  the  others  are  not  representations  and  sensations  for  it. 
And  similarly  if  the  world  is  only  an  aggregate  of  thoughts 
that  we  think. 

Say  that  the  world  is  an  aggregate  of  sense-perceivables 
and  thinkables,  and  we  shall  be  in  agreement.  In  this  case, 
however,  you  will  have  secured  the  identity  of  thought  with 
being.  But  the  doctrine  by  which  you  have  secured  this  iden- 
tity, while  it  can  and  ought  to  be  called  idealistic  in  one  sense, 
can  and  ought  also  to  bo  called  realistic.  But  I  do  not  dispute 
about  the  name.  The  doctrine  which  I  have  formulated  is  not 
materialistic  or  agnostic,  but  it  must  not  be  confounded  with 
that  idealism  which  implies  solipsism. 


APPENDIX  II 
THEORY  OF  KNOWLEDGE 

THE  knowledge  which  man  has  of  nature  (of  observable  reality) 
permits  him  to  propose  ends  to  himself,  and,  within  certain 
limits,  to  attain  them. 

So  a  problem  arises.  What  is  the  end  to  which  human 
activity  ought  to  be  directed  ?  The  problem  cannot  be  solved 
by  means  of  the  knowledge  (vulgar  or  scientific)  of  nature.  If 
we  know  the  facts  and  the  laws  of  the  facts,  we  know  how  to 
proportion  the  means  to  the  ends.  But  here  it  is  a  question 
of  fixing,  of  discovering,  the  end  which  has  the  highest  value, 
the  best  or  the  loftiest.  We  cannot  be  content  with  knowing 
nature,  just  because  we  are  adapted  to  knowing  nature. 

A  problem  is  set,  one  of  undoubted  importance.  How  do 
we  discuss  it  ?  The  things  that  we  can  know  are  the  observable 
things— nature.  But  the  knowledge  we  have  of  things  is  not 
one  of  those  things,  nor  their  aggregate  (nature).  Yet  it  is 
something  known  that  can  be  studied  and  mastered.  Having 
constructed  the  theory  of  things  we  must  construct  a  theory  of 
knowledge.  And  if  the  problem  proposed  cannot  be  solved 
by  the  help  of  a  theory  of  knowledge,  it  must  be  intrinsically 
incapable  of  solution,  as  we  have  seen  that  the  theory  of 
things  cannot  solve  it.1 

We  must  (we  said)  form  the  theory,  not  the  critique,  of 
knowledge.  Let  us  explain  why  many  have  spoken  instead 
of  the  critique. 

Tbc  solution  of  the  problem  set  cannot  be  given  by  the 
science  of  observable  reality.  Then  it  will  be  given,  if  given  at 
all,  by  the  science  of  a  reality  not  observable — of  a  reality 
superior  to  the  observable. 

1  I  note  incidentally  that  it  is  nonsense  to  call  the  problem  insoluble. 
A  supreme  end  or  value  exists  by  the  very  fact  that  a  thinking  ht)in<r 
<n>es  in  search  of  it.  But  its  insolubility  will  either  be  proved  by  the  theory 
of  knowledge  or  will  remain  a  profitless  assertion. 


298  The  Great  Problems 

The  idea  was  bound  to  arise  of  opposing  to  doctrines  founded 
on  such  a  presupposition  the  prejudiced  "But  can  we  attain  to 
knowledge  of  an  unobservable  reality? "  And  it  had  undoubt- 
edly a  notable  polemical  value.  If  I  prove  that  man  can  know 
nothing  of  what  you  claim  to  know,  I  have  no  need  to  weigh 
your  arguments  one  by  one. 

In  this  idea  there  was  something  intrinsically  absurd. 
Knowledge  is  not  an  instrument  which  can  be  verified  like  a 
balance.  But  there  was  also  something  profoundly  true. 

"  Let  us  see  what  man  is  capable  of  knowing,"  said  the  Critics, 
"  and  let  us  cease  from  all  attempts  to  know  more."  Bad,  in  so 
far  as  they  pretend  by  means  of  knowledge  to  fix  insuper- 
able bounds  to  knowledge.  Let  us  see  what  man  is  capable  of 
knowing,  and  let  us  be  sure  there  is  nothing  else,  say  we,  com- 
pleting the  reflection  of  the  Critics,  or  rather  rendering  ourselves 
conscious  of  its  meaning. 

When  we  have  made  the  theory  of  things  and  the  theory  of 
knowledge,  we  have  made  the  theory  of  all  that  exists,  of  all 
that  is  possible.  There  remains  nothing  more  to  know  or  to 
seek.  Intelligence  cannot  go  further,  not  because  its  strength 
fails, but  because  there  is  no  "further."  So  if  one  could  reach 
the  centre  of  the  earth,  he  could  go  down  no  further,  for  there 
is  no  further  down  than  the  centre  of  the  earth. 

There  are  no  invisible  colours,  for  colour  is  only  a  content 
of  optical  sensation.  Similarly  there  are  no  unknowable  beings, 
because  Being  is  a  category.  No  man  sees  all  the  colours  or 
knows  all  beings,  but  those  colours  which  he  does  not  see,  those 
beings  which  he  does  not  know,  are  as  visible  or  knowable  re- 
spectively as  those  which  he  does  see  or  know. 

We  have  not,  and  shall  certainly  never  have,  a  complete 
theory  of  things.  Can  we  flatter  ourselves  that  we  shall  have 
some  day  a  complete  theory  of  knowledge  ? 

This  question  brings  forward  a  difficulty  which  is  a  condem- 
nation of  those  philosophies  which  fail  to  recognise  it,  but  one 
which  we  must  not  exaggerate.  The  incompleteness  of  our 
theory  of  things  does  not  exclude  our  having  about  things  know- 
ledge of  universal  value  absolutely  beyond  discussion.  I  know, 
for  instance,  that  all  bodies  have  extension,  that  two  momentary 
phases  of  two  facts  are  either  simultaneous  or  successive. 

The  theory  of  knowledge  will  never  be  finished.     There 


Theory  of  Knowledge  299 

will  always  be  room  to  make  important  discoveries  in  it.  But 
its  inevitable  incompleteness  does  not  exclude  our  knowing 
certain  propositions  as  absolutely  true  and  necessary  as  the 
two  mentioned. 

Let  us  return  to  the  problem  of  the  ends.  Those  solutions 
of  it  which  are  irreconcilable  with  epistemological  propositions 
of  ascertained  value,  must  certainly  be  excluded.  Conversely, 
from  the  epistemological  propositions  of  ascertained  value  we 
shall  deduce  a  solution  of  the  problem.  It  will  not  be  fully 
determinate,  but  as  far  as  it  goes  it  will  be  undoubtedly  true, 
and  it  will  become  gradually  more  determinate  with  the  perfect- 
ing of  the  theory  of  knowledge. 

What  this  solution  is  I  shall  not  say.  I  proposed  myself 
a  simple  question  of  method,  and  in  this  connection  I  will 
add  an  important  observation. 

The  knowledge  the  theory  of  which  permits  us  to  solve  the 
problem  of  the  ends  cannot  be  a  merely  theoretical  knowledge. 
We  must  take  account  not  only  of  true  assertions  but  of  just 
valuations,  and  render  explicit  to  ourselves  the  reasons  of  both 
alike,  otherwise,  instead  of  considering  knowledge,  we  shall  only 
be  considering  an  abstract  moment  of  knowledge. 

Man  knows  and  acts.  He  knows  in  so  far  as  he  acts.  It  is 
quite  right  to  distinguish  theory  from  practice,  but  to  believe 
they  can  exist  separately  would  be  a  disastrous  error. 


APPENDIX  III 

THE   LIMITATIONS   OF   INTELLIGENCE 

IN  reference  to  the  general  solution  of  algebraical  equations, 
Comte  writes:  "Plus  on  medite  sur  ce  sujet,  plus  on  est  con- 
duit a  penser.  .  .  qu'il  surpasse  reelement  la  portee  effective 
de  notre  intelligence.  ...  II  y  a.  ...  lieu  de  croire  que,  sans 
avoir  deja  atteint  sous  ce  rapport  les  bornes  irnposees  par  la 
faible  portee  de  notre  intelligence,  nous  ne  tarderions  pas  a  les 
rencontrer.  .  ." l 

We  shall  understand  one  another  more  easily  if  we  speak  of 
roots  instead  of  equations.  Let  us  seek  for  a  number  which 
has  2  for  its  square.  It  is  not  difficult  to  persuade  ourselves 
that  such  a  number  cannot  bo  found.  Does  the  impossibility 
of  rinding  it  prove  that  its  determination  surpasses  "  reelement " 
the  effective  capacity  of  our  intelligence  ?  Not  at  all.  Let  us 
suppose  that  I  cannot  discover  a  number,  determinate  in  itself, 
knowable  by  me  and  by  anyone  else,  for  instance,  the  number 
of  persons  in  the  University  Buildings  at  mid-day  yesterday ; 
this  failure  of  mine  proves  the  existence  of  a  limitation  to  my 
cognitive  power. 

But  a  number  which  has  2  for  its  square  does  not  exist 

1  Cours  de  Philosophic  jmsitive,  5th  edition  ;  Paris,  Schleicher  Bros.,  1907-8, 
vol.  i.  p.  111.  To  discuss  the  individual  doctrines  of  Cointo  to-day  would  be 
almost  useless.  But  the  fundamental  principle  seems  still  to  many  of 
intuitive  evidence.  This  persuasion,  which  radically  falsihes  the  whole  idea 
of  philosophy,  deserves  to  be  confuted.  The  principle  had  already  been 
formulated  by  Kant  (not  to  go  back  to  Hume,  Locke,  Des  Cartes,  Leonardo, 
and  the  Greek  sceptics).  Kant,  however,  associated  with  the  principle 
some  much  more  profound  reflections,  which,  when  logically  developed,  led, 
in  contradiction  to  his  opinion,  to  the  abandonment  of  the  principle  by 
which  Comte's  philosophy,  on  the  other  h:md,  is  entirely  dominated.  The 
impossibility  of  solving  algebraically  equations  higher  than  the  fourth 
degree  (an  impossibility  which  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  limitations  of 
intelligence)  had  been  demonstrated  by  lluflini  (Tr.oria  Generate  di 
Kyuazioni ;  Bologna,  IT'.M),  p.  2(.*0).  Comte,  who  wrote  in  1830,  contented 
himself  with  noting  in  this  connection  :  "L'equa/ion  g('m'rale  de  cinquieme 
degrv  elle-meme  a  jusqu'ici  resistu  a  toutcs  les  tentatives"  (p.  110). 


The  Limitations  of  Intelligence  301 

(among  integers  or  fractions).  Since  it  does  not  exist,  it 
cannot  be  known.  But  its  failure  to  be  knowable  is  no 
evidence  whatever  that  our  intelligence  is  limited.  According 
to  Comte  (op.  tit.,  vol.  i.  p.  3),  "  Le  caractere  fondamental  de  la 
philosophic  positive  est  de  regarder  tous  les  phenom&nes  comme 
assujettis  a  des  lois  naturelles  in  variables,  dont  la  decouverto 
precise  et  la  reduction  au  moindre  nombre  possible  sont  le 
but  de  tous  nos  efforts,  en  considerant  comme  absolument  in- 
accessible et  vide  de  sens  pour  nous  la  recherche  de  ce  qu'on 
appelle  les  caiwes,  soit  premieres,  soit  finales." 

Good.  Admitting  that "  la  recherche  de  ce  qu'on  appelle  les 
causes  "  is  "  vide  de  sens  pour  nous,"  is  there  any  more  sense  in 
the  assertion  that  the  same  "  recherche "  is  to  be  considered 
"  comme  absolument  inaccessible"?  The  evident  impossibility 
of  replying  to  a  meaningless  question  does  not  constitute 
ignorance,  but  rather,  on  the  contrary,  to  have  made  it  clear 
that  the  question  is  meaningless  constitutes  with  regard  to  that 
argument  a  knowledge  whose  absolute  truth  is  beyond  cavil. 
Suppose,  for  instance,  we  wish  to  know  the  fixed  co-ordinates  of 
a  point,  and  we  find  that  the  point  is  in  motion.  The  problem 
of  knowing  the  fixed  co-ordinates  cannot  be  solved.  Manifestly 
it  is  nonsense.  But  the  knowledge  that  the  problem  (as  it  was 
set)  is  nonsense,  is  knowledge  that  the  point  is  in  a  state  of 
motion; — an  absolute  knowledge  of  this,  although  its  motion 
may  be  deterrninable  only  in  relation  to  other  points,  and 
hence  the  concept  which  we  form  of  it  may  be  necessarily 
relative.  It  is  one  thing  that  a  concept  should  be  relative 
in  itself — that  is,  should  be  the  concept  of  a  relation ;  it  is 
another  thing  that  the  knowledge  of  it  which  is  justified 
should  not  be  absolute  knowledge,  and  should  be  considered 
surpassable  by  an  intelligence  not  limited  like  ours.  I  say,  for 
instance,  that  twelve  is  the  double  of  six.  I  have  expressed  a 
knowledge  which  is  certainly  the  knowledge  of  a  relation. 
But  it  is  the  absolute  knowledge  of  this  relation.  Is  there  any- 
one capable  of  maintaining  that  although  "for  man"  twelve  is 
twice  six,  it  is  perhaps  not  so  for  a  less  limited  intelligence? 
Or  capable  of  fancying  that  such  a  supposition  has  a  meaning  ? 
If  there  is  no  sense  in  speaking  of  primary  and  final  causes,  we 
must  conclude,  if  \ve  wish  to  speak  sensibly,  that  primary  and 
final  causes  are  inaccessible  to  us  because  they  do  not  exist 


302  The  Great  Problems 

and  not  because  we  lack  the  power  to  attain  them.  One  who 
says  that  we  can  know  nothing  of  first  or  final  causes,  meaning 
by  this  a  defect  in  human  intelligence — of  necessity  presupposes 
that  the  concepts  of  first  cause  and  of  final  cause  are  true.  It 
is  to  a  certain  extent  a  pity,  though  unimportant,  that  we 
cannot  see  the  opposite  side  of  the  moon,  because  this  exists 
and  is  in  itself  visible,  and  its  not  being  visible  to  us  is  to  be 
referred  to  our  circumstances,  which  might  be  different  or  can 
be  imagined  so.  But  it  would  be  great  folly  to  lament  our 
inability  to  see  a  regular  polyhedron  with  seven  vertices,  seeing 
that — "  regular  polyhedron  with  seven  vertices  "  is  a  phrase 
without  a  corresponding  concept. 

Either,  then,  we  know  the  meaning  of  first  and  final  causes, 
and  the  reason  adduced  to  prove  that  we  can  know  nothing  of 
these  causes  vanishes ;  or  else  the  terms  first  and  final  cause 
have  no  meaning,  and  then  it  is  not  true  that  we  know  nothing 
of  first  and  final  causes,  for  we  know  with  absolute  certainty 
that  the  world  admits  of  neither  the  one  nor  the  other.  That 
is  to  say,  we  are  in  possession  of  a  metaphysic.  A  metaphysic 
— a  general  conception  of  the  universe — the  sum  of  which  is  to 
have  eliminated  from  the  universe  cause  and  end,  will  be 
different  from  every  other,1  but  it  is  no  less  a  metaphysic  than 
the  other. 

On  the  other  hand,  a  doctrine  which  does  not  give  a  true 
and  certain,  even  though  negative,  solution  of  the  problems 
proposed  to  it  by  metaphysics — the  Great  Problems — a  doctrine, 
that  is,  which  is  not  itself  metaphysics — cannot  eliminate  the 
religious  beliefs,  the  elimination  of  which  is  one  of  the  principal 
inventions  of  our  philosopher. 

Faith  is  not  founded  on  the  presupposition  that  it  is 
possible  by  rational  means  to  describe  the  universe  entirely. 
If  it  be  given,  and  not  merely  granted,  that  such  a  possibility  is 
excluded  once  and  for  ever,  the  possibility  of  subjecting  faith 
to  a  rational  critique  will  be  excluded  at  the  same  time.  The 
Church  does  not  say,  "  I  show  you  through  arguments  that  my 
solutions  of  the  Great  Problems  arc  true  "  2  but  "  my  solutions 

1  This  is  not  quite  true.     Remember  (re  final  causes)  Democritus,  "  who 
ascribes  the  world  to  chance." 

2  That  Christians,  and  Catholics  in  particular,  have  had,  and  still  have, 
recourse  to   rational  demonstrations  is  true.     There  has  been  a  scholastic 


The  Limitations  of  Intelligence  303 

were  revealed  to  me  supernaturally.  I  teach  them  to  you,  and 
you  will  immediately  recognise  them  as  true,  provided  that 
supernatural  grace  is  not  lacking — grace  which  is  a  sine  qua 
iwn  both  of  recognising  supreme  truths  and  of  performing 
truly  good  works." 

It  is  sheer  simplicity  to  imagine  that  an  answer  is  given  to 
this  by  the  assertion  (or  even  by  the  proof)  that  it  is  impossible 
to  know  anything  by  rational  means  of  the  things  which  we  are 
invited  to  believe.  The  reason  which  declares  our  incom- 
petence thereby  leaves  the  field  free  and  undisputed  to  faith. 
In  opposition  to  faith,  which  presupposes  the  insufficiency  of 
reason,  it  is  no  use  to  intrench  ourselves  in  a  plea  of  ignoramiis 
or,  worse  still,  of  iynorabiirmis.  To  exclude  it  we  must  bring 
forward  knowledge  to  take  its  place.  To  give  up  the  purpose 
of  forming  a  general  conception  of  the  universe  and  of  solving 
the  Great  Problems  means  to  give  up  all  conscious  direction 
of  the  course  of  culture  and  civilisation,  to  abandon  our- 
selves to  chance  in  matters  of  the  greatest  importance.  We 
must,  of  course,  try  to  form  a  true  metaphysic,  and  not  limit 
ourselves  to  the  passive  reproduction  of  this  or  that  meta- 
physic already  constructed.  The  attempts  hitherto  made 
have  not  been  entirely  successful.  The  reason  of  this  non- 
success  can  only  be  one  of  two : — the  intrinsic  insolubility 
of  the  Great  Problems,  or  a  defect  in  the  methods  hitherto 
pursued.  \Ve  must  first  of  all  discuss  the  method.  The 
insolubility  cannot  be  presumed  or  inferred  from  the  dis- 
agreement of  philosophers.  This  is  useless  for  the  purpose. 
It  will  be  proved,  if  it  is  proved,  by  the  discussion  of  the 
method.  Suppose  it  is  so  proved,  we  must  endure  it,  but  in  this 
case  let  us  remember  that  not  even  the  Philosophie  positive 
(of  Comte  or  of  anyone  else)  will  give  us  conscious  direction. 
The  human  race  mu.*>t  either  abandon  itself  to  fate,  or  seek 
refuge  in  religion. 

Let  us  discuss  the  method. 

philosophy,  and  there  is  a  neo-scholustic  philosophy.  Hut  tho  philosophy, 
Christian  or  Catholic,  cannot  bu  absolutely  identified  with  faith,  although 
connected  with  it.  Nor  to  distinguish  them  (roughly  indeed,  but  quite 
.surely)  is  there  need  of  the  recent  accurate  labours  of  De  Wulf  and  others. 
Dante  u  rites  "  Se  potuto  aveste  saper  tutto,  raestier  non  i-ra  partorir 
Maria."  And  the  act  of  faith  recited  in  every  petty  school  of  Christian 
doctrine  begins,"  I  believe,  because  God  has  revealed  to  Holy  Church,"  <tc. 


304  The  Great  Problems 

Where,  in  the  name  of  Heaven,  are  we  to  find  the  knowledge 
which  we  lack,  unless  in  that  which  we  possess  ?  I  mean  the 
knowledge  needed  to  compose  the  metaphysic.  A  more  ex- 
tended experience  may  give  us  new  knowledge  of  facts  or  of 
natural  laws,  but  not  inform  us  whether  God  does  or  does  not 
exist.  Therefore  the  only  method  which  can  lead  us  to  the 
construction  of  the  metaphysic  is  reduced  to  the  study  of 
knowledge.  This  method,  moreover,  rightly  applied,  cannot 
fail  to  lead  us  to  the  construction  of  the  metaphysic.  In  other 
words,  when  once  w.e  have  discovered  what  cognition  necessarily 
implies,  the  metaphysical  truth  is  discovered  at  the  same  time. 
In  fact,  it  would  be  gratuitous  to  suppose  another.  Not  only 
assertions  but  also  suppositions  must  be  justified ;  and  by  what 
unless  by  knowledge  or  by  what  knowledge  necessarily  implies  ? 

In  reference  to  knowledge,  we  must  distinguish  "  the  laws 
which  are  valid  for  all  that  exists  or  happens  or  for  determinate 
classes  of  things  and  facts"  and  "the  consciousness  which  certain 
subjects,  viz.  human  beings,  have  of  the  same  laws."  Hence 
arise  two  problems :  "  How  ought  we  to  conceive  reality  in  order 
that  its  being  dominated  by  laws  may  be  comprehensible  ? "  and 
"How  can  the  consciousness  of  a  subject  include  laws?" 
Knowledge  must  be  considered  objectively  as  well  as  subjec- 
tively, with  the  caution,  however,  that  the  known  element, 
whatever  it  be,  must  be  numerically  the  same  in  the  object  and 
the  subject.  In  fact,  if  what  I  am  conscious  of  is  not  the  thing, 
there  is  no  sense  in  saying  that  I  am  conscious  of  the  thing  or 
that  I  know  it. 

The  processes  by  which  the  knowledge  which  a  determinate 
subject  possesses  is  realised  or  constituted  are  undoubtedly 
psychical  facts,  conscious  or  partly  subconscious,  and  insepar- 
able from  certain  physiological  processes  which  take  place  in 
the  body  of  the  subject  itself.  We  can  then  admit  that  "  la 
theorie  positive  des  functions  .  .  .  intellectuelles"  must  "dc- 
sorrnais  consistcr  dans  I't'tude,  a  la  Ibis  experiment  ale  et  ratio- 
nelle,  des  divers  phenomenes  do  sensibilite  interieure  propres  aux 
ganglions  cerebraux."  *  And  consequently  we  can  also  admit 
that  the  higher  animals  "  manifestent  ...  la  plus  part  de  nos 
facultes  .  .  .  intellectuelles,  avec  des  simples  differences  de 
degro."  2 

1   Up.  cit.,  vol.  iii.  p.  404.  2  Ibid.,  p.  408. 


The  Limitations  of  Intelligence  305 

But  with  this  we  have  not  finished.  For  then  there  would 
be  no  difference  between  empirical  and  rational  study.  Or 
rather,  the  fact  that  two  different  subjects  see  one  and  the 
same  colour  would  be  impossible,  though  it  is  certainly  true. 
A  phenomenon  "  peculiar  "  to  the  ganglia  of  the  subject  A,  and 
a  phenomenon  "  peculiar  "  to  the  ganglia  of  the  subject  B,  do 
not  constitute  the  single  phenomenon  colour,  common  alike  to 
A  and  B.  And  so  a  single  factor  of  knowledge,  which  is  not 
sufficient  to  constitute  it,  is  put  in  evidence.  Nor  is  this  factor 
conceived  with  precision.  The  "  observation  interieure "  is 
considered  as  a  "  vain  principe  " ;  in  fact,  "  la  seule  supposition 
...  do  1'homme  se  regardant  penser  "  would  be,  according  to 
Comte,  "  evidemment  contradictoire." 1  Now  it  is  true  that 
consciousness  is  not  a  thing,  and  hence  cannot,  strictly  speak- 
ing, become  an  object  of  itself.  But  it  cannot  because  it  need 
not.  I  do  not  observe  myself  from  outside,  but  my  being 
conscious  consists  in  my  being  present  to  myself.  Hence  it 
follows  that  it  is  possible  for  me  to  know  something  of  my  own 
facts  as  if,  or  even  better  than  if,  I  observed  them  from  outside. 

A  word  or  two  on  the  objective  factor  of  knowledge.  What 
does  Comte  think  of  space?  "Reduite  a  son  acceptation 
positive,  cette  conception  consiste  siinplement  en  ce  que,  au 
lieu  de  considerer  1'etendue  dans  les  corps  eux-memes,  nous 
1'envisageons  dans  un  milieu  indefini  .  .  .  Quant  a  la  nature 
physique  (!)  de  cet  espace  indefini,  nous  devons  spontanement 
nous  la  representer,  pour  plus  de  facilite,  comme  analogue  au 
milieu  effectif  dans  lequel  nous  vivons,  tellement  que  si  ce 
milieu  etait  liquide,  au  lieu  d'etre  gazeux,  notre  espace 
geometrique  serait,  sans  doute,  concu  aussi  coinrne  liquide." 2  In 
fact,  we  who  live  in  a  gaseous  medium  conceive  geometric 
space  as  gaseous!  It  is  useless  to  waste  time  in  criticising  the 
concepts,  if  we  can  call  them  so,  which  are  crowded  together  in 
this  passage.  Let  us  only  note  that  there  is  no  indication  of 
the  necessity  of  the  spatial  relations — relations  which,  a  few 
lines  further  on,  are  called  "  les  phenomenes  geometriques." 

The  objective  factor  is  considered  as  something  purely  of 
fact,  like  a  psycho-physical  formation.  Let  us  see,  for  instance, 
this  other  passage: — ''Les  surfaces  et  les  lignes  sont  .  .  .  . 
n'-ellenicnt  toujours  concues  avec  trois  dimensions:  il  serait,  en 

1   Op.  cit.,  vol.  iii.  pp.  407   S.  -   Ibid.,  vol.  i. 

U 


306  The  Great  Problems 

effet,  impossible  de  se  representer  une  surface  autrement  que 
comme  une  plaque,  etc." *  Here  the  confusion  between  concept 
and  representation  is  obvious.  But  if  the  concept  (which  is 
general)  is  reduced  to  the  representation  (which  is  particular), 
how  will  it  be  possible  to  know  that  "  tous  les  phe"nomenes  "  are 
"  assujettis  a  des  lois  naturelles  invariables,"  among  which  some 
are  also  necessary  ? 

In  conclusion,  the  "  philosophic  positive," — if  we  make 
abstraction  from  the  value  (which  we  have  not  yet  examined) 
of  the  several  parts — as  a  doctrine  of  the  whole,  fails  to  attain 
its  end.  It  does  not  attain  it  because  it  is  not  a  theory  of 
knowledge,  although  it  includes  a  noteworthy  amount  of  know- 
ledge ably  systematised. 

"  Pour  se  livrer  a  1'observation,  notre  esprit  a  besoin  d'une 
theorie  quelconque." 2  Lot  us  correct  this.  In  order  that 
knowledge  may  be  deduced  from  observations,  we  need  the 
foundation  of  a  theory,  not  "  quelconque,"  but  true.  Only 
there  is  no  need  for  the  theory  to  be  explicitly  known.  It  is 
sufficient  for  its  foundation  to  be  implicit  in  the  subject,  so  that 
the  processes  observed  may  be  regulated  by  it.  The  supposition 
of  beings,  essentially  unknowable  or  even  only  unknowable  by 
us,  is  nonsense,  for  Being  is  a  concept,  and  a  concept  which  we 
have.  Therefore  the  limits  of  knowledge,  even  of  our  know- 
ledge, coincide  with  the  limits  of  Being — in  other  words,  there 
is  nothing  beyond  the  kuowable. 

No  one  man  will  ever  possess  all  particular  possible  know- 
ledge. But  this  is  not  the  point.  The  important  thing  is  to 
solve  the  Great  Problems,  for  we  cannot  do  without  this  if  we 
wish  to  gain  full  and  true  consciousness,  full  and  true  dominion, 
of  ourselves.  The  true  solutions  of  these  problems  are  those  at 
which  we  shall  arrive  by  rendering  explicit  the  presupposition 
necessarily  implied  in  all  knowledge.  Either  we  do  not  possess 
knowledge  of  any  sort,  or  we  must,  conclude  that,  limited  as  we 
are,  we  can  attain  to  an  actual  knowledge  transcending  (intensive) 
every  limit.  This  means,  substantially,  that  we  are  not  so 
limited  as  some  would  huve  us  suppose.  Limited  as  animals, 
yes  !  But  as  reasoning  beings  ! 

1  Op.  cit.,  vol.  i.  p.  1U7.  2  ibid.,  p.  5. 


APPENDIX   IV 

TRUTH   AND  KNOWLEDGE 

THE  knowledge  of  what  is  included,  in  so  far  as  it  is 
included  in  the  unity  of  consciousness  of  the  knowing  subject, 
is  certain.  "  Kann  jemand  den  Gedanken  fassen,  es  ware  nur 
sein  subjektiver  Irrtum,  dass  or  sich  seiner  bewusst  zu  sein 
glaube,  wiihrend  er  in  Wirklichkeit  gar  kein  Bewusstsein 
hatte  ?  Kann  jeinand  den  Gedanken  fassen,  es  ware  nur  ein  in 
der  Menschennatur  liegender  Schein,  der  jeden  glauben  lasse, 
sich  seiner  bewusst  zu  sein,  obgleich  em  solches  Sichseiner- 
bewusstsein  (d.  i.  ein  wirkliches)  gar  nicht  gebe  ?  Was  ist  hier 
das  Wirkliche  ?  Laugnung  und  Zweifel  schlagen  sich  selbst, 
indem  sie  das  Gelaugnete  oder  Bezweifelte  durch  sich  selbst 
voraussetzen.  Moge  dieses  Sichseinerbewusstsein  noch  so  viel 
Dunkelheiten  und  Schwierigkeiten  in  sich  haben,  sie  konnen 
alle  zusamuien  die  Thatsachlichkeit  desselben  nicht  zweifelhaft 
machen.  In  dicsern  schlichtesten  allbekannteu  Sinne,  den 
auch  jeder  denkt,  wenn  von  der  Bewusstlosigkeit  im  Schlafe 
oder  in  der  Ohnmacht  die  Rede  ist,  brauche  ich  das  Wort. 
Bewusstsein  und  Ich  konnen  proiniscue  gebraucht  werdeu. 
In  dem  Sich-seiner-bewusstsein  besteht  das  Ich.  Und  Bewusst- 
sein schliesst  es  seinem  BegritVe  nach  in  sich  und  kann  ohne 
dieses  nicht  gedacht  werden,  so  wenig  wie  eine  Peripherie  ohne 
mittelpunkt."  1 

This  is,  in  short,  Des  Cartes'  starting  point.  W.  Windel- 
band  2  marvels  that  Des  Cartes'  "  nieinals  die  Dccke  von  den 
Abgrtinden  der  Tauschung  gezogen  zu  haben  scheint,  welche  in 
dem,  was  \vir  unsere  Vorstellung  von  uns  selbst  nennen, 
enthalten  sind."  There  is  no  doubt  that  Des  Cartes'  doctrine, 
as  it  was  presented  by  him,  needs  to  be  cleared  up,  supplemented, 
and  corrected  ;  but  the  ([notation  from  Schuppe  brings  out 

1  \V.  Sclmppe,  CnlriMii..  KrMtior.  a.  Log.,  Berlin,  1SSM,  p.  16. 

2  Gesch,  d.  nearer.  Phil.,  4th.  edit.,  Leipzig,  I'JOT,  vol.  i.  p.  183. 

307 


308  The  Great  Problems 

clearly  its  true  kernel,  eliminating  Windelband's  objection 
(and  that  of  a  hundred  others).  The  obscurities  and  difficulties, 
or  rather  the  illusions  and  errors,  which  start  forth  when  the 
"  7  "  wishes  to  determine  with  exactness  its  own  concept  of  itself 
as  a  distinct  individual,  have  no  place  here.  Nor  is  there  any 
need  now  to  insist  on  the  distinction  between  the  "  /,"  properly 
so  called — capable  of  knowledge  in  the  strict  sense — and  the 
animal  subject. 

Conversely,  to  know  anything,  anything  whatever,  means,  on 
the  part  of  the  subject,  that  that  thing  is  included  in  the  unity 
of  consciousness  of  the  knowing  subject.  What  I  am  not  con- 
scious of  is  actually  unknown  to  me.  It  may  exercise  an  influence 
over  me  and  over  my  knowledge,  but  I  do  not  say  or  think,  and 
I  could  not  fiic  ft  nunc.  say  or  think,  anything  about  it.  For 
rny  saying  and  thinking  are  acts  of  which  there  is  one  conscious- 
ness— myself. 

To  understand  this  doctrine  thoroughly  (it  is  not  the  simple 
reproduction  of  Des  Cartes,  though  derived  from  it),  it  is  well  to 
examine  some  objections.  "  Les  philosophes  qui  s'inspirent  do 
la  pensee  cartesienne  se  h'gurent  1'esprit  comme  une  sorte  de 
miroir  receptif  .  .  .  Cette  faQon  d'enoncer  le  probleme  est 
vicieuse  .  .  .  En  premier  lieu  .  .  .  cette  formule  supprime  la 
partie  principale  du  probleme,  celle  qui  a  trait  a  la  certitude 
des  connaissanccs  i.<ld(t.tcn  .  .  .  En  second  lieu  .  .  .  (elle)  de- 
nature la  position  du  probleme  .  .  .  dans  son  application  au 
monde  des  existences."  * 

Let  us  begin  with  real  things.  To  know  them  "  ce  n'est  pas 
avoir  un  concept  qui  soit  la  reproduction  adequate  de  la  chose 
telle  qu'elle  est  .  .  .  :  vouloir  connaitre  ainsi  la  realite,  c'est-a- 
dire  vouloir  se  representer  les  choses  en  soi  et  -scmx  aucune 
assimilation  de  la  chose  a  connaitre  par  le  connaisseur,  c'est 
vouloir  une  chose  doublement  impossible."  In  fact,  (1)  "Com- 
ment etabliriez-vous  une  comparaison  entre  une  representation 
et  une  chose  qui  no  vous  est  pas  presente  ? "  (the  thing  in  itself) 
( '_')  "  Supposez  la  connaissance  aussi  parfaite  quo  vous  le  voudrez, 
.  .  tou jours  est-il  que  le  wycf.  apportera  necossairement  sa  nature 
a  1'acte  de  la  connaissance;  cet  acte  participera  done  neces- 
saireinent  du  la  nature  du  sujol  .  .  .  Vouloir  sortir  de  soi  pour 
prendre  les  Atrcs  tels  qu'ils  sont  .  .  .  ct  les  connaitre  sans  y 

1    I).  Morcier,  Vritirivl.  f)<;n>'r.,  5th  edit.,  Louvain,  1906,  pp.  41-2. 


Truth  and  Knowledge  309 

mettre  du  sien,  c'est  vouloir  les  connaitre  sans  etre  con- 
naissant" * 

The  subject  evidently  takes  part  in  knowledge.  But  he 
must  form  a  concept  of  his  part  which  does  not  exclude  know- 
ledge. A  resultant,  in  the  production  of  which  the  subject  and 
the  object  concur  as  two  forces,  cannot  be  a  knowledge  of  the 
object.  Suppose  oxygen  to  be  capable  of  knowing,  no  one  will 
say  that  the  formation  of  water  is  a  knowledge  which  oxygen 
has  obtained  of  hydrogen. 

The  "  nature  "  of  the  subject,  we  say,  is  to  be  conscious.  In 
reference  to  physical  reality,  to  be  conscious  of  it,  to  perceive  it 
by  the  senses,  means  to  include  a  part  of  it  in  the  unity  of  one's 
own  consciousness.  A  part,  never  the  whole  (although  every 
part  is  by  its  nature  capable  of  being  included)  because  the 
subject  is  limited.  We  must  understand  that  the  part  included 
is  the  same,  both  as  included  in  the  unity  of  that  subject  and 
as  not  included  (for  instance  as  included  in  the  unity  of  another 
subject).  And,  as  included,  it  has  become  a  constituent  of  the 
subject.  Some  of  these  constituents  are  essential  to  the  subject, 
though  others  are  accidental  and  variable. 

The  inclusion  in  the  unity  of  a  subject  of  a  part  of  reality 
(non-essential  to  the  subject)  depends  on  many  circumstances. 
It  depends  in  particular  on  causal  processes  which  are  developed 
both  outside  the  consciousness  of  the  subject  and  between  the 
consciousness  of  the  subject  and  external  reality,  and  also  (when 
we  observe  and  experiment)  in  the  consciousness  of  the  subject. 
The  subject  evidently  participates  in  the  causal  processes  of 
the  second  and  third  class.  In  its  participating  in  them  or 
accomplishing  them,  consists  the  activity  of  the  sentient  subject, 
an  activity  which  we  cannot  eliminate  in  the  smallest  degree. 

But  the  result  of  that  inclusion  is  that  the  subject  has 
become  conscious  precisely  of  that  part  of  reality.  I  mean  of 
that  part,  and  not  of  something  which  is  a  product  of  two 
factors,  subjective  and  objective,  in  which  we  could  not  possibly 
distinguish  how  much  was  due  to  the  one  and  how  much  to  the 
others. 

"  How  do  you  prove  this  doctrine  true  ? "  Mercicr  will  ask. 
A  sufficient  answer  would  be,  '•  On  what  grounds  do  you  imagine 
any  other  ?  "  We  see  the  sky  blue.  Let  us  imagine,  if  we  can, 
1  D.  Mercier,  Crite'riol.  f/tJK-'r.,  5th  edit.,  Luuvain,  190<>,  pp.  41  '2. 


3io  The  Great  Problems 

that  the  sky  is  not  blue  but  only  appears  so  to  us.  We  per- 
ceive that  the  world  has  extension.  Let  us  imagine,  if  we  can, 
that  the  world  is  not  extended,  but  only  seems  to  be  so.  We 
distinguish  a  horse's  four  feet.  Let  us  imagine,  if  we  can,  that 
the  horse  JWLS  not  four  feet,  but  only  seems  to  us  to  have  them. 
And  further,  let  us  persuade  ourselves  that  sensations  are 
nothing  but  illusions.  Let  us  persuade  ourselves  that  we  have 
laid  the  foundations  of  a  theory  of  knowledge.  Continuing,  we 
shall  have  to  conclude  that  we  have  not,  but  only  appear  to 
ourselves  to  have,  feelings,  sensations,  and  cognitions.  The 
doctrine  which  sees  a  resultant,  a  product  of  two  factors,  in  the 
content  of  consciousness,  is  either  never  valid  or  always  valid. 

But  I  can  also  answer  with  another  question.  What 
motives  have  we,  in  Heaven's  name,  to  suppose  an  eternal 
reality  other  than  that  which  we  apprehend  ?  Certainly  the 
oar  is  not  bent,  as  it  might  appear.  It  is  impossible  to  walk 
under  a  rainbow,  and  so  on.  In  other  words,  if  we  wish  to 
know,  or  even  simply  to  escape  from  a  difficulty,  we  must  not 
go  only  by  what  we  perceive  by  our  senses  at  a  given  instant, 
we  must  also  help  ourselves  by  what  we  remember.  For  reality 
is  not  wholly,  but  only  partially,  included  in  our  consciousness. 
Actual  sensations  keep  on  including  in  the  subject's  conscious- 
ness different  and  disconnected  portions  of  reality.  The  sub- 
ject by  its  own  efforts  must  construct  a  representation  of  the 
whole,  sufficiently  extended  and  arranged. 

The  representation  of  a  whole  is  more  or  less  adequate,  ac- 
cording as  the  experience  of  the  subject  is  more  or  less  rich 
and  varied,  and  according  to  the  aptitude  of  the  subject  for  re- 
arranging its  experience.  But  the  subject  only  rearranges  it 
by  following  the  evidences  of  real  arrangement,  included  in  its 
consciousness  along  with  the  sense-perceivables.  The  oar,  tested 
by  toucJi,  is  not  bent,  but  optically  it  is  bent.  In  fact,  not  only 
do  I  sec  it  bent,  but  it  is  represented  bent  on  a  photographic 
plate.  If  I  think  it  bent  also  to  the  sense  of  touch,  I  am  in 
error.  I  let  myself  be  guided  by  associations  which  in  this  case 
have  no  value.  I  suppose  in  reality  an  arrangement  which 
further  experience  would  prove  it  not  to  have.  With  elements 
of  external  reality  which  are  not  sense-perceivables  perceived, 
no  subject  has  ever  had  anything  to  do.  Hence  there  is  ab- 
solutely no  reason  Lo  support  an  external  reality  consisting  of 


Truth  and  Knowledge  3 1 1 

other  than  those  swme  sense-perceivables  which  are  fragmen- 
tarily  and  in  part  perceived  by  us ;  it  cannot  exist.  And  if  it 
could  exist,  it  would  be  a  reality  that  we  could  not  know. 

We  come  to  the  "  connaissances  ideales."  These,  says  the 
author,  "  n'ont  pas  pour  objet  une  realite  existante, .  .  .  mais  des 
rapports  dont  la  verite  est  independante  de  toute  affirmation 
relative  aux  existences."  J  And  he  is  evidently  right.  But  these 
"rapports"  are  between  "existences"  ;  they  are  valid  for  actual 
concrete  objects,  external  or  internal.  They  are  not  things,  but 
they  constitute  the  arrangement  of  things,  and  in  this  sense 
they  belong  to  reality  which  is  arranged.  They  are  therefore 
objective,  and  our  knowing  them  is  only  our  reproducing  them, 
as  they  are,  along  with  our  judgments. 

Among  our  judgments  some  are  necessary  (and  between 
unnecessary  judgments  there  are  some  necessary  relations). 
We  deduce  from  this  (to  use  the  words  of  the  author,  who  is  not 
of  the  same  opinion)  that  "  les  essences  des  choses  ....  sont 
necessaires,  immuables,  eternelles." 2  According  to  the  author, 
the  logical  arrangement  does  not  correspond  "  adequatement "  to 
the  ontological  arrangement.  The  adequate  correspondence  is 
an  ideal  which  "  n'est  pas,  dans  la  condition  de  notre  vie  ter- 
restre,  a  la  portee  de  notre  intelligence."  3 

This  point  is  of  vital  importance  in  philosophy,  and  must  be 
most  diligently  discussed. 

I  do  not  admit  that  reality  constitutes  an  exclusively  logical 
ystein  ;  the  existence  of  non-logical  elements  appears  to  me 
incontestable,  not  only  as  a  matter  of  fact,  but  as  a  logically 
necessary  presupposition  of  happening.  I  agree  with  the  author 
that  "  on  ne  pent  affirmer  simultanement,  sans  se  contredire, 
1'unite  universelle  de  la  nature,"  in  an  exclusively  logical  sense, 
"  et  1'evolution."  4 

But  in  the  first  place,  the  fact  of  the  two  arrangements, 
logical  and  ontological,  not  rigorously  coinciding  is  not  to  be  re- 
ferred to  the  '•  conditions  de  notre  vie  terrestre."  It  is  real  and 
essential,  itself  logically  necessary,  or  else  it  does  not  exist,  and 
we  cannot  admit  it  without  falling  into  error.  The  author  him- 
self admits  this  without  perceiving  it.  To  say — We.  under  such 
and  such  conditions,  cannot  recognise  the  coincidence,  ^rc.,  either 

1  Op.  cit.,  pp.  41-2.  2  Up.  cit.,  p.  -225. 

3  Up.  cit.,  p.  227.  *  Up.  cit.,  p.  362. 


312  The  Great  Problems 

means  nothing,  or  it  means  that  the  coincidence  is  real  and  that 
we  do  recognise  it. 

In  the  second  place,  the  non-coincidence  does  not  disturb 
the  logical  arrangement ;  it  realises  and  presupposes  it.  The 
nori -logical  (not  ^logical)  elements,  which  we  must  admit,  form 
part  of  a  higher  logical  unity  in  which  they  are  included  and 
to  which  they  are  subordinate.  What  is  logically  absurd 
(absurd  for  us)  is  ontologically  impossible. 

According  to  the  author,  however,  "  Autres  sont  .  .  .  les 
caracteres  des  choses,  dans  leur  existence  physique,  autres  ceux 
qu'elles  acquierent  lorsque  1'intelligence  s'empare  d'elles  .  .  ." 
The  intelligence  "ne  peut  etreindre  une  chose  exterieure  et  la 
faire  sienne,  sans  lui  iinprimer  la  maniere  d'etre  de  sa  propre 
nature."1  In  these  propositions  there  is  an  appearance  of 
intuitiveness  which  may  easily  lead  into  error.  Certainly  "  les 
objets  intelligibles  stables  presents  a  1'intelligence  ne  se  con- 
fondent  pcvs  avec  les  clioses,  .  .  .  ils  en  sont  les  representations 
abstraites,"  z  this  is  a  horse,  not  the  horse,  and  its  legs  are  four, 
not  the  four. 

But  to  believe  that  our  (adequate)  concepts  are  character- 
istics of  things — abstracted,  that  is  separated,  by  means  of  an 
exercise  of  activity,  from  that  group  with  which  they  are  really 
associated,  and  yet  always  the  same,  both  in  our  abstract 
thinking  and  in  the  real  groups— is  not  a  confusion  between 
our  concepts  and  things.  Conversely,  if  through  fear  of  con- 
fusion we  admit  that  our  concepts  "  participent  de  la  nature  du 
sujet  intelligent  qui  les  represente,"  3  we  shall  have  to  say  that 
the  horse  has  not  four  legs,  but  that  I,  through  my  nature, 
represent  it  to  myself  with  four  legs — that  nothing  exists,  but 
that  I,  through  my  nature,  represent  to  myself  something  as 
existing. 

Our  concepts  are  in  every  case  "  empruntes  aux  choses 
d'experience,"  but  when  they  are  constructed  by  us,  and  we  put 
into  them  something  of  our  own  (as  when,  for  instance,  one 
thinks  poisonous  fungi  good  to  eat),  the  ontological  arrangement 
and  the  logical  arrangement  become  different  and  opposed.  If 
the  author's  doctrine  were  true,  the  same  disagreement  between 
the  two  arrangements  would  always  take  place.  We  shall  not 
therefore  run  any  risk.  An  error  which  might  have  practical 
1  O^.  cit.,  pp.  ;J6fj-U.  2  llul.,  p.  365.  3  Ibid. 


Truth  and  Knowledge  313 

consequences  will  not  be  inevitable.  But  can  we  construct  a 
philosophy  ?  Can  we  without  irrationality  believe  in  a  religion  ? 

Moreover,  the  same  question  which  we  have  already  for- 
mulated with  regard  to  sense-percepts  meets  us  again.  We  at- 
tribute certain  characteristics  to  things,  we  arrange  facts 
according  to  certain  laws.  All  this,  of  course,  with  reference  to 
sense-experience.  So  we  arrive  at  a  logical  arrangement  of 
experience.  On  what  ground  do  you  deny  that  experience,  so 
arranged,  is  reality  ?  On  what  ground  do  you  suppose  in 
things  other  characteristics  than  those  which  we  attribute  to 
them,  and  in  facts  other  laws  than  those  which  we  formulate  ? 
The  reality  which  we  experience  and  know  is  the  only  one  with 
which  we  have  to  do.  A  reality  which  transcends  experience 
and  cognition  is  reducible  to  a  dream  of  yours.  We  do  not 
confute  you,  for  there  is  no  need.  It  is  for  you  to  prove  the 
existence  of  a  reality  whose  characteristics  are  other  than  our 
concepts.  Prove  it,  for  as  yet  you  have  not  done  so,  and  do 
not  forget  that  existence  and  reality  are  words,  which  are 
significant  hi  so  far  as  they  are  expressions  of  our  concepts. 

The  error  which  we  are  opposing  has  its  root  in  a  pre- 
supposition. We  suppose  intelligence  and  reality  to  be  two 
different  things,  each  outside  the  other.  Intelligence  must 
then  "  etreindre  une  chose  exterieure  et  la  faire  sicnne,"  which 
naturally  it  cannot  do  "  sans  lui  imprimer  la  maniere  d'etre  de 
sa  propre  nature."  Knowledge  becomes  the  effect  of  the 
reciprocal  interference  of  two  things.  But  if  reality  were 
outside  intelligence,  heterogeneous  to  intelligence,  it  would  not 
be  knowable,  nor  could  it  ever  become  so.  Reality  receives  the 
imprint  of  intelligence,  but  not  in  the  act  of  cognition  on  the 
part  of  the  individual  subject,  and  not  from  intelligence  qiui 
intelligence  of  the  individual  subject.  It  has  it  in  itself  ab 
oriyine,  qua  reality,  not  qud  reality  known  by  the  individual 
subject.  A  reality,  the  elements  of  which,  though  non-logical 
in  the  sense  explained  in  the  text,  are  not  logically  connected 
with  one  another,  a  reality  in  which  intelligence  is  not  immanent, 
is  an  absurdity.  And  if  it  could  exist,  there  would  be  another 
absurdity  in  its  being  known  on  the  part  of  a  subject. 

"La  verite  d'une  chose,"  says  the  author  elsewhere,1  ''nous 
(la)  faisons  consister  dans  sa  conformite  avec  un  type  ideal  quo 

1  Me'taph  Gemr.,  4th  edit.,  Louvain,  1905,  p.  -201. 


314  The  Great  Problems 

nous  nous  sommes  forme  d'apres  1'experience."  It  is  intui- 
tively evident  that  I  must  perform  a  vast  and  complex  labour 
on  elements  given  by  experience  in  order  to  have  in  my  explicit 
consciousness  a  type,  clear  and  distinct  in  that  way  in  which 
there  can  be  consciousness  of  a  type  (a  way  which  certainly  is 
not  that  in  which  there  can  be  consciousness  of  a  sense-per- 
ceivable). But  what  is  the  result  of  this  labour  which  is  per- 
formed in  the  distinct  unity  of  my  consciousness,  and  which 
has  for  presuppositions  elements  exclusively  mine  ?  Is  the 
type  constructed  by  it,  or  is  it  only  added  to  my  explicit  con- 
sciousness ?  Michael  Angelo  the  sculptor  of  Moses,  Columbus 
the  discoverer  of  America,  alike  perform  a  personal  labour  on 
elements  given  by  experience,  and  succeed  in  enriching  their 
respective  consciousnesses  with  new  contents.  But  the  new 
contents  are  made  in  the  tirst  case,  and  simply  discovered  in 
the  second.  Does  the  labour  with  which  we  gain  consciousness 
of  a  type  make  or  discover  it  ?  Since  we  all  can  have  con- 
sciousness of  the  same  type,  even  though  we  do  not  all  do  so, 
the  answer  is  not  doubtful. 

"  Qui  done  a  conscience  de  contempler,  au-dessus  des 
realites  ephemeres  que  les  sens  pei^oivent,  un  monde  d'essences 
subsistantes,  et  de  se  r^ferer  a  celles-ci  pour  juger  si  un  pro- 
duit  est  pur  ou  altere,  un  homme  honnete  ou  criminel  ?  "l  Who  ? 
Why,  all  those  who  judge  about  the  purity  of  a  product  or  the 
honesty  of  a  man,  knowing  what  purity  and  honesty  means. 
To  know  the  meaning  of  these  words  is  not  simply  to  perceive 
a  reality  with  the  senses. 

"A  1'encontre  des  theories  idealistes  nous  pensons  que  les 
idees-types,  d'apres  lesquelles  nous  jugeons  de  la  verite  onto- 
logique,  sont  abstraites  de  1'experience."  2  Certainly  they  arc 
abstracted  from  experience.  But  the  man  who  has  deduced 
them  by  abstraction  possesses  them.  He  has  a  consciousness  of 
them  which  differs  from  that  of  reality  perceived  by  the  senses. 
Having  deduced  them  by  abstraction  he  has  not  then  made 
them,  he  has  arrived  at  them.  And  an  element  which  is 
abstracted  from  experience  is  capable  of  being  abstracted  from 
it,  or  is  in  some  way  implicit  in  it.  This  does  not  mean  that 
the  element  exists  outside  or  above  experience :  it  is  in  ex- 
perience as  a  law  (in  our  case  as  a  tcleological  law). 

1  Op.  cit.,  p.  207.  2  Ibid. 


Truth  and  Knowledge  315 

"  La  ve"rite  d'une  chose,  telle  que  1'entend  la  conscience  de 
rhumanite*,  reside  dans  la  conformity  de  la  chose  avec  1'id^e- 
type  que  Ton  s'en  est  faite;  elle  ne  peut  done  surgir  que 
dependamment  de  cette  ide"e-type  et  poste'rieurement  a  elle." * 

The  words  "  telle  que  1'entend,"  &c.,  imply  a  contradiction. 
They  imply,  on  the  one  hand,  that  the  truth  of  which  we  are 
speaking  is  the  only  one  of  which  we  have  a  concept,  as  a 
man  cannot  have  a  higher  concept  than  "  la  conscience  de 
1'humanite."  On  the  other  hand,  they  imply  that  that  same 
truth  is  not  the  only  one  of  which  we  have  a  concept :  otherwise, 
what  is  the  purpose  of  the  words  "  telle  que  1'entend"  ? 

But  there  is  worse  than  this.  Some  men  form  a  certain 
"  idee-type  "  of  a  thing.  Others,  elsewhere  or  at  another  time, 
form  another.  For  instance,  human  sacrifice  seems  a  duty  to 
one,  a  crime  to  another.  If  the  truth  "  reside  dans  la  confor- 
mite  de  la  chose  avec  1'idee-type  que  Ton  s'en  est  faite,"  we  shall 
have  to  say  that  both  are  right.  And  the  succession  of  one 
"  idee-type  "  to  another  will  be  an  indifferent  varying  like  the 
changes  of  fashion.  It  will  not  be  in  any  case  an  improvement 
on  the  contrary.  For  every  valuative  (not  simply  distinctive) 
comparison  between  two  "  idee-types  "  supposes  the  necessity 
of  an  "  idee-type  "  which  is  true  in  itself — whose  truth,  I  mean, 
does  not  depend  on  our  having  made  it. 

Experience  varies.  We  see  that  truth  which  is  abstracted 
from  experience  can  also  vary.  It  might  have  been  the  duty 
of  a  judge  under  certain  circumstances  to  have  the  accused  put 
to  the  torture.  Such  a  duty  exists  no  longer.  But  we  must 
distinguish. 

Happening  implies  certain  necessary  and  therefore  invari- 
able laws.  For  instance,  the  commencements  of  two  facts  will 
always  be  simultaneous  or  successive,  nothing  else  being 
possible.  There  are  therefore  necessary  truths  which  man 
cannot  make  but  only  discover.  I  am  not  now  investigating 
whether  any  types  of  perfection  belong  to  this  class  of  truths. 

But  happening  implies  also  the  varying  of  some  of  its  laws. 
Therefore  there  are  also  truths  which  are  not  necessary,  but 
relative  to  times,  places,  and  circumstances.  Some  types  of 
perfection  certainly  belong  to  this  second  class  of  truths.  A 
lady,  for  instance,  to  be  well  dressed,  must  be  dressed  in  the 

1   Op.  rit.,  p.  208. 


316  The  Great  Problems 

fashion.     Man  cannot  make  these  truths  either,  but  must  be 
content  to  discover  them. 

Whether  the  truths  are  of  the  first  or  of  the  second  class, 
the  subject  deduces  them  from  experience  in  which  they  are 
immanent,  by  a  process  of  abstraction  which,  if  successful, 
produces  in  the  subject  the  explicit  consciousness,  the  knowledge, 
of  a  truth  which  is  altogether  independent  of  the  particular 
subject  or  of  any  number  of  subjects,  or  of  all  the  men  that 
ever  have  been  or  will  be.  And  yet  it  is  true  that  man,  in  so 
far  as  he  is  capable  of  modifying  to  a  certain  extent  the 
external  world  and  himself,  can  exercise  an  influence  on  some 
truths  of  the  second  class.  Agriculture  and  education  (to  give 
no  other  instances)  subject  to  laws,  desired  and  obtained  by  us, 
are  happenings  which  without  our  efforts  would  have  been 
dominated  by  somewhat  different  laws.  The  activity,  whether 
practical  or  cognitive,  is  always  one,  but  exercised  in  two  entirely 
different  ways.  My  modification  of  a  sheet  of  paper  by  writing 
on  it,  is  not  simply  a  way  in  which  I  represent  it  to  myself. 

The  process  whereby  man  (every  man)  endeavours  to  know 
the  truth,  whether  fixed  or  variable,  independent  of  or  depen- 
dent on  him,  but  objective — the  process  whereby  we  strive  to 
gain  explicit  consciousness  of  the  laws,  fixed  or  variable,  &c.,  of 
happening — this  process  can  succeed  or  fail,  can  attain  or  fail 
to  attain,  the  end  to  which  it  is  directed.  In  every  case,  when 
it  is  ended,  it  gives  a  result,  opinion.  I  am  pursuaded  that, 
everywhere  and  always,  or  under  certain  conditions,  dependent 
or  not  on  my  acts  or  those  of  other  men,  certain  laws  are  valid. 

Evidently,  it  does  not  follow  that  the  laws  are  valid  from 
my  being  persuaded  of  it.  I  have  made  my  opinion  for  myself 
with  my  own  individual  labour ;  nothing  compels  things  to 
conform  themselves  to  it.  The  opinion  may  be  fallacious.  Let 
us  note,  however,  that  not  even  a  fallacious  opinion  is  some- 
thing altogether  and  in  every  respect  exclusively  mine — one 
of  my  psychical  facts.  An  error  can  be  discussed,  confuted, 
defended,  taught  and  accepted ;  it  may  arise  independently  in 
different  subjects;  it  may  be  spread  abroad,  and  become 
common  also  to  all  men.  Error  always  implies  elements  of 
truth.  More  exactly,  whatever  there  is  precise,  clear,  and 
explicit  in  the  error  is  always  truth ;  the  error  always  consists 
in  something  which  lacks  precision,  which  is  obscure  and  in- 


Truth  and  Knowledge  317 

volved ;  in  something  which  we  think  we  have  expressed  in 
words  but  which  the  words  only  indicate.  Without  the  truths 
which  are  explicit  elements  of  it,  the  error  would  not  be 
possible.  The  activity  which  produces  the  opinion  produces  it 
in  so  far  as  it  is  capable  of  arriving  at  the  truth,  in  so  far  as  it 
necessarily  arrives  at  it,  provided  that  it  renders  itself  really 
explicit.  If  true  opinions  were  not  possible,  or,  rather,  if  they 
did  not  exist,  there  would  be  no  false  opinions  either. 

The  true  opinion  is  the  knowledge  of  truth,  mi/  knowledge 
of  course,  but  of  a  truth  which  is  mine  in  so  far  as  it  is  known 
by  me,  in  so  far  as  it  has  been  rendered  explicit  in  the  unity  of 
my  consciousness,  which,  however,  is  not  made  by  me,  as  the 
paper  on  which  I  write  is  not  made  by  me  although  I  see  it. 
That  which  I  do  can  be  reduced  to  rendering  explicit  in  myself 
that  objective  truth  which  was  at  first  only  implicit  in  me. 

Mercier's  doctrine  tends  to  confuse  truth  with  opinion,  tends 
to  absolute  relativism.  As  he  himself  recognises :  "  Oui,  toute 
verite  est  conditioned  par  la  presence,  soit  dans  la  nature,  soit 
dans  la  pen  see,  des  termes  entre  lesquels  surgit  un  rapport 
d'identite,  d'appartenance,  de  contradiction." 1  Let  us  leave 
nature  alone.  "  Pensee,"  in  the  author's  opinion,  must  signify 
explicit  individual  thought.  For  if  we  take  "  pensee  "  in  the 
sense  of  "  thinkable,"  to  speak  of  terms  which  may  or  may  not 
be  "  present  to  the  thought "  is  absurd  ;  the  thinkable  always  of 
necessity  contains  all  its  elements.  The  "verite  "  of  which  ho  is 
speaking  here  is  therefore  the  truth  of  a  proposition  stated, 
even  though  silently.  And  it  cannot  be  denied  that  the  truth 
of  a  proposition  supposes  the  accidental  fact  that  the  proposition 
has  been  stated.  When  I  hold  my  tongue,  I  speak  neither 
truth  nor  falsehood. 

But  wo  are  not  speaking  of  truth  only  in  the  sense  just 
indicated,  and  it  is  not  possible  to  speak  of  it  solely  in  this  sense. 
I  can  speak  truth  and  falsehood.  Now  to  speak  the  truth,  I 
must  certainly  speak,  but  I  must  also  formulate  between  certain 
concepts  a  relation  which  exists  between  those  same  concepts. 
This  is  objective  truth,  without  which  the  subjective  truth  of 
my  judgment  would  not  be  even  conceivable — objective  truth 
which  of  necessity  is  immanent  alike  in  natural  things  and  in 
the  consciousness  of  the  subject  capable  of  knowing. 

1   Up.  cit.,  p.  218. 


318  The  Great  Problems 

The  error  which  we  are  discussing  has  its  root  in  the  doc- 
trine of  St.  Thomas:1  "Modus  cognoscendi  rem  aliquam  est 
sccundum  conditionem  cognoscentis,  in  quo  forma  recipitur 
secundum  modum  ejus." 

Of  St.  Thomas  and  the  scholastics  in  general,  I  do  not  think 
it  right  to  speak  with  slight  respect.  A  problem  is  solved 
when  it  is  put  in  an  equation.  Now  it  is  a  fact  that  the 
scholastics,  and  particularly  St.  Thomas,  have  powerfully  contri- 
buted to  put  the  problems  of  philosophy  into  equations.  I  do 
not  refute  St.  Thomas's  doctrine,  but  I  say  that  the  examination 
of  the  equation  in  which  he  has  expressed  a  problem  makes  it 
manifestly  necessary  to  correct  the  equation  itself.  This  is  to 
make  the  good  seed  bear  fruit,  and  not  to  trample  on  it. 

"  Modus  cognoscendi  est  secundum  conditionem  cogno- 
scentis." The  observation  is  profound,  and  true  provided  that 
we  do  not  give  it  an  interpretation  which  renders  knowledge 
impossible.  Now  knowledge  requires  that  "  forma  cogniti  ex 
necessitate  sit  in  cognoscente  eo  modo,  quod  est  in  cognito."2 
In  fact,  is  it  reasonable  to  say  that  the  form  of  A  (I  am  speak- 
ing of  the  form  and  not  simply  of  A)  is  in  B  according  to  the 
form  of  B  ?  From  a  vessel  in  which  there  is  water  with  a 
certain  form,  I  pour  the  water  into  another  different  vessel, 
and  in  the  second  vessel  the  water  receives  another  form.  Can 
we  say  that  the  form  given  to  the  water  in  the  first  vessel  has 
been  received  in  the  second  vessel  according  to  its  form  ? 
Certainly  not.  The  new  vessel  receives  the  water,  but  not  the 
old  form  which  is  destroyed.  Now  knowledge  consists  precisely 
in  receiving  a  form  (metaphor  apart,  a  law).  And  the  form  is 
the  same  in  the  knower  as  in  the  known,  or  there  is  no  know- 
ledge at  all. 

Therefore  the  "  conditio  cognoscentis  "  to  which  knowledge  is 
subordinate,  consists  in  the  possibility  that  the  knower  may 
receive,  and  become  conscious  of  that  same  form,  that  same  law, 
or  in  short  that  same  truth  which  is  form,  law,  or  truth  of  the 
thing  known.  Knower  und  known  so  come  to  be  in  some 
way3  on/'  and  the  wine  tlri-ny.  There  is  no  help  for  it.  The 

1  (Quoted  by  Mi-rcier,  <'fil<'ri<>l.  p.  44.  2  [bid. 

?J  I  say  ///  aoiiie  "''/'/•  Their  identity  under  the  aspect  we  :iro  considering 
docs  not  exclude  but  rather  presupposes  their  distinction  and  diversity 
under  other  aspects. 


Truth  and  Knowledge  319 

truth  which  the  subject  knows  is  either  not  truth  (and  then  the 
subject  does  not  know),  or  it  cannot  be  such  only  in  the  subject. 
It  must  be  immanent  in  the  things. 

Mercier  also  admits  this — or  nearly  so.  "  Les  choses  de  la 
nature,  les  objets  de  la  pensee,  sont  rapportables,  les  uns  aux 
autres,  et  Ton  a  raison  de  dire,  pour  ce  motif,  que  la  verite 
reside  fondamentalement  dans  les  choses;  le  sujet"  of  a  judg- 
ment "exige  1'attribut  qui  en  verite  lui  convient."1 

But  all  this  must  not  be  taken  literally.  For  "  tant  qu'une 
intelligence  n'intervient  pas  pour  se  rendre  presentes  les  choses, 
et  pour  leur  appliquer  une  forme  intelligible  presupposee,  le 
rapport  n'a  pas  lieu.  Faute  d'intelligence,  il  n'y  aurait  done 
point  de  rapport  de  verite." 2 

One  who  says  concept,  relation,  or  law,  says  intelligence. 
He  indicates,  that  is,  elements  that  can  be  understood  by  a 
subject,  not  merely  perceived  by  the  senses,  Intelligence,  in 
this  sense,  is  immanent  in  things.  Michael  Angelo's  Pieta  is  in 
St.  Peter's.  Its  being  there  does  not  consist  in  my  saying  so. 
Even  the  author  admits  that  my  judgment  is  true  in  so  far  as 
it  conforms  to  a  requirement  of  the  thing.  The  intelligence 
which  is  immanent  in  things  is  therefore  itself  a  constituent 
of  me.  The  fact  of  the  Piet&  being  in  St.  Peter's,  which  is  a 
relation  between  real  things,  is  also  a  knowledge  of  mine.  It  is 
not  at  all  necessary  to  the  intelligence  to  be  a  constituent  of 
me.  The  Piet&  was  in  St.  Peter's  long  before  I  knew  anything 
of  it,  long  before  I  existed.  It  is  essential  to  the  intelligence  to 
be  immanent  in  the  things. 

The  problem  is  of  incontestable  gravity.  And  I  have  no 
intention  whatever  of  solving  it  with  the  strokes  of  an  axe,  any 
more  than  those  who  are,  by  faith,  in  possession  of  the  true 
solution.  Do  not  they  also  seek,  like  philosophers,  a  solution 
the  truth  of  which  is  settled  by  reason  and  which  naturally  will 
coincide  with  that  believed  through  faith,  this  being  true  ? 
Therefore  ;'ita  qiuoranms,  quasi  omnia  incerta  sint."3 

To  seek  with  profit,  let  us  lay  down  clearly  what  is  already 
settled.  It  is  settled  that  intelligence  is  immanent  in  things, 
and  that  this  immanence  is  essential  to  the  things.  It  is 

'   (J/>.  n't.,  p.  24.  :   H>i'L 

:1  Or  of  any  other  subject — for  what  is  said  of  mo  can  bo  said  of  uvory 


320  The  Great  Problems 

settled  that  the  unity  of  consciousness  or  of  self-consciousness, 
which  is  realised  in  each  of  us,  is  not  essential  to  the  intelli- 
gence. The  fact  that  we  know  the  world,  and  know  those 
mental  elements  of  it  which  cannot  exist  outside  ourselves  as 
things,  only  admits  of  one  rational  interpretation.  That  same 
intelligence,  or  that  same  reason,  or  that  same  truth,  which  is 
immanent  in  things,  is  implicit  in  us,  and  we  can  render  it 
explicit  to  ourselves. 

Nothing  else  for  the  time  being  is  settled.  Hence  we 
cannot  accept  sic  et  simpliciter  St.  Thomas's  doctrine : l  "  Etiam 
si  intellectus  humanus  non  esset,  adhuc  res  dicerentur  versa  in 
ordine  ad  intellectum  divinum.  Sed  si  uterque  intellectus, 
quod  est  impossibile,  intelligeretur  auferri  nullo  modo  veritatis 
ratio  remaneret."  The  distinction  here  indicated  between  the 
human  and  divine  intellect,  and  the  consequent  possibility  of 
the  human  intellect  ceasing  to  exist  are  not  admissible.  There 
is  no  divine  intellect  essentially  different  from  the  human. 
Intellect  is  divine — that  intellect  which  shines  forth  in  the 
consciousness  of  each  one  of  us  and  is  immanent  in  things. 
St.  Thomas  also  was  substantially  of  the  same  opinion.  His 
words  imply  that  there  is  only  one  "veritatis  ratio"  alike  for 
the  human  intellect  as  for  the  divine. 

Let  us  return  to  the  problem.  The  intellect  is  immanent  in 
things,  but  perhaps  it  is  not  essential  to  it  to  be  immanent  in 
things.  In  that  case,  and  in  that  case  only,  will  it  be  essential 
to  it  to  be  associated  with  one  consciousness  or  a  constituent 
of  it.  Certainly  the  one  consciousness  essential  to  the  intellect 
is  not  that  of  any  particular  subject.  It  is  God. 

To  show  that  God  exists  as  a  conscious  personal  being 
means  to  show  that  truth  is  inseparable  from  knowledge,  that 
truth  and  knowledge  can  be  reduced  to  one.  The  truth  which 
ought  to  be  identified  with  knowledge  must  be  that  which  we 
know  and  recognise  as  implicit  in  things.  Conversely,  the 
knowledge  which  ought  to  be  identified  with  truth  must  be 
distinct  from  that  ever  incomplete  knowledge  which  each  of  us 
can  have  of  the  truth. 

The  demonstration  of  the  existence  of  God  presupposes 
logically  a  distinction  between  the  truth  and  our  knowledge  of 
the  truth.  It  presupposes  an  objective  truth,  the  same  as  that 

1   <Jf.  op.  cit.,  pp.  24-5. 


Truth  and  Knowledge  321 

known  by  us  (for  our  knowing  it  is  only  its  being  rendered 
explicit  in  our  consciousness)  but  not  constituted  by  the  fact  of 
our  knowing  it. 

To  admit  that  the  truth  as  known  by  us  is  constituted  by 
our  knowing  it,  is  to  reduce  the  world  and  our  thought  to  an 
absurdity.  It  would  render  impossible  every  proof  of  God's 
existence,  or,  rather,  would  take  away  all  meaning  from  the 
question :  Does  God  exist  ? 


APPENDIX  V 

METAPHYSICS   AND  MORALITY 

THERE  are  rules  of  conduct  higher  than  caprice  or  individual 
interest.  Each  man  has  a  knowledge  of  these  rules,  and  it  is 
sufficient  for  him  to  conform  himself  thereto.  He  is  convinced 
that  so  to  conform  himself,  even  if  it  be  the  cause  of  serious 
evils  to  him,  is  his  duty,  and,  all  considered,  is  the  best  he  can 
do. 

On  the  content  and  the  value  of  the  rules  we  are  all  in 
agreement,  because  we  are  all  in  agreement,  as  regards  essentials, 
in  judging  our  own  conduct  and  that  of  others — all  of  us, 
whatever  be  our  religious  or  philosophic  convictions,  and  even 
if  we  have  no  convictions  at  all  on  the  subject.  The  aggregate 
of  the  said  rules  constitutes  therefore  a  morality  independent 
of  metaphysics. 

But  the  knowledge  which  even  educated  persons  have  of 
the  rules  is  fragmentary  and  in  great  part  implicit.  Although 
this  does  not  prevent  us  from  being  honourable  men,  it  makes 
it  sometimes  harder  for  us.  It  is  the  reason  of  uncertainties 
and  of  various  inconveniences,  which  make  themselves  manifest 
when,  for  instance,  we  are  dealing  with  the  solution  of  the 
problems  of  education  or  of  legislation.  Contradictions  spring 
up  between  one  rule  and  another.  These  may  be  only  apparent, 
but  are  not  always  easy  to  eliminate.  Controversies  arise  and 
perpetuate  themselves  as  to  how  they  ought  to  be  eliminated. 

There  is  only  one  means  of  freeing  ourselves  from  the 
difficulties  indicated,  and  that  is  to  render  our  knowledge  of 
the  rules  explicit,  complete,  rationally  connected  and  ordered, 
i.e..  to  reduce  the  chaotic  aggregate  of  rules  to  a  system,  to 
make  a  science  of  it — Moral  Science.  To  construct  such  a 
science  means  to  solve,  in  reference  to  moral  notions,  that 
problem  which,  in  reference  to  spatial  notions,  is  solved  by 
constructing  geometry,  in  reference  to  the  notions  of  the 
material  world  by  constructing  physics.  The  construction  of  a 


Metaphysics  and  Morality  323 

moral  science  may  be  more  difficult  than  the  construction 
of  other  sciences,  but  we  do  not  see  why  it  should  be  im- 
possible. 

In  the  manner  indicated,  morality  as  a  science  is  constructed 
on  a  basis  of  moral  experience.1  It  clearly  results  even  from 
the  little  that  has  been  said  that  moral  science,  according  to 
the  idea  of  it  that  we  have  expressed,  would  be  no  less  science 
than  any  other  (geometry  or  physics,  for  instance),  and  would 
have,  equally  with  every  other,  a  great  theoretical  and  practical 
importance. 

But,  I  must  add,  in  spite  of  this,  it  would  be  insufficient. 
It  would  not,  it  could  not  make  us  know  precisely  that  thing 
which,  as  regards  morality,  it  is  most  important  for  us  to  know. 

Human  society  is  now  in  a  certain  actual  state  to  which  I 
must  adapt  myself.  But  its  state  changes,  and  I  assist  in 
changing  it.  I  assist  in  this  by  my  conversation,  if  not  other- 
wise. In  fact,  public  opinion,  the  great  transforming  force  of 
human  society,  is  the  resultant  of  the  conversations  of  each 
and  all  of  us.  I  pass  over  the  fact  that  there  is  perhaps  no  one 
who  does  not  influence  the  state  of  fact  much  more  effectively 
than  by  his  conversation  only,  by  the  education  of  his  children, 
for  instance ;  and  that  some  statesmen  and  writers,  for  example, 
can.  under  particular  circumstances,  exercise  a  singularly 
powerful  influence.  The  external  results  of  the  actions  by 
which  I  tend  to  change  the  state  may  be  negligible.  But  the 
direction  which  I  give  in  this  sense  to  my  work,  although  it 
matters  little  in  reference  to  any  real  change  in  the  state  of 
fact  (for  what  I  can  do  externally  is  as  nothing)  matters  enor- 
mously in  reference  to  me.  My  action,  in  so  far  as  it  assists, 
however  feebly,  in  changing  the  state  of  fact,  ought  to  assist  in 
changing  it  for  the  better.  So  far  as  concerns  myself,  I  ought 
to  regulate  myself  as  if  my  action  were  truly  efficacious. 

1  The  moral  science  of  which  we  have  spoken  is  based  on  moral  experi- 
ence in  the  same  way  that  geometry  is  bused  on  spatial  experience  (on 
external  experience,  in  so  fur  as  it  is  spatial  -  making  abstraction,  that  is, 
from  its  other  characteristics).  Naturally  an  experience,  whether  moral  or 
spatial,  or  of  any  other  kind,  must  be  rationally  elaborated,  if  we  are  to 
construct  a  science  from  it.  (Cf.  my  article  "  L'l-spoi  ien/.a  morale,"  in  Riv. 
Filo*.,  I'avia,  Nov.  l)ee.  1S>OK.)  The  accusation  of  blind  empiricism  is  no 
more  justified  against  those  who  wish  to  construct  morality  as  a  science 
(independently  of  metaphysics)  than  it  would  be  against  geometricians. 


324  The  Great  Problems 

Morality  ought  to  tell  me  how  I  ought  to  regulate  myself  in 
this  sense. 

The  onesidedness  and  insufficiency  of  the  scientific  morality 
of  which  we  have  spoken  are  thus  rendered  manifest.  I  must 
adapt  myself  to  the  state  of  fact.  That  is,  the  state  of  fact 
imposes  rules  upon  me  which  I  must  respect  even  in  my 
attempts  (more  or  less  efficacious,  more  or  less  conscious)  to 
modify  it.  But  they  do  not  exclude  such  attempts  and  do  not 
direct  them.  To  what,  then,  can  we  reduce  scientific  morality? 
To  a  recognition  of  the  state  of  fact,  to  rendering  explicit  the 
rules  which  express  its  requirements,  to  building  them  into  a 
system.  This  would  be  sufficient  if  I  had  only  to  adapt  myself 
to  the  state  of  fact.  But  in  adapting  myself  to  it,  I  also 
exercise  a  modifying  action  which  is  guided  by  some  rule.  On 
this  rule,  with  which  I  cannot  dispense,  scientific  morality  (in 
so  far  as  truly  scientific  and  founded  on  moral  experience,  on 
the  state  of  fact)  makes  no  pronouncement. 

It  is  easy  to  recognise  that  this  rule  is  precisely  the  highest, 
the  one  which  implies  in  itself  the  essence  of  morality.  I  tend 
to  modify  the  state  of  fact.  Therefore  I  do  not  entirely 
subordinate  myself  to  it.  In  a  certain  sense,  and  within 
certain  limits,  I  rather  subordinate  the  state  of  fact  to  my  own 
ideal.  I  consider  this  ideal,  which  I  tend  to  realise,  as 
better  than  the  state  of  fact.  Therefore  I  possess  a  criterion  by 
which  I  value  the  state  of  fact — a  criterion  higher  than  that 
state,  and  in  consequence  not  deducible  from  it,  not  reducible 
to  the  expression  of  the  laws  which  observation  makes  us 
recognise  as  valid  in  the  state  of  fact. 

Physiology  studies  life  as  it  was  and  as  it  actually  is,  and 
cannot  in  any  way  be  reduced  to  a  simple  statement.  Such  a 
study  permits  us  to  climb  to  the  highest  laws  of  life,  to  com- 
prehend its  evolution.  Similarly,  we  say:  By  studying  the 
present  and  past  state  of  fact  in  human  society  we  succeed 
in  making  manifest  the  purpose  which  is  implicit  in  it  -we 
succeed  in  discovering  the  desired  higher  laws  of  individual 
activity. 

So  be  it.  But  I  ask,  Are  these  higher  laws  which  are 
formulated  truly  the  Itiyltt'Ht,?  Yes  or  No?  Does  their  dis- 
coverer know  the  truth — .s/V  <t  simpliciter,  that  is  to  say,  the 
absolute  truth — or  only  a  relative  truth,  that  which  we  can 


Metaphysics  and  Morality  325 

humanly  know  in  respect  of  morality  ?  This  is  the  true 
knot  of  the  question,  and  we  must  untie  it  before  going 
further. 

For  the  present  I  am  arguing  with  those  philosophers  who, 
desirous  "  de  donner  aux  principes  de  la  morale  la  seule 
certitude  scientitique  appreciee  des  idealistes  Kantiens  aussi 
bien  que  des  positivistes,"  are  unwilling  "faire  dependre  la 
morale  des  speculations  transcendantes  reservees  aux  meta- 
physiciens," 1  and  I  maintain  that  the  scientific  morality 
constructed  by  them  is  not  definite  morality ;  it  does  not  solve 
the  fundamental  ethical  problem. 

Christianity  says  there  are  some  things  of  which  man 
cannot  have  experience  as  long  as  he  lives  in  this  world,  nor 
with  his  rational  means  alone  can  he  obtain  certain  knowledge 
of  them,  but  he  will  have  to  do  with  them  after  death.  Accord- 
ing as  he  does  or  does  not  do  his  duty  in  this  world,  man  will 
be  in  the  next  happy  or  unhappy,  good  or  bad,  for  ever.  And 
his  duty  is  precisely  to  arrange  his  conduct  in  this  world 
according  to  his  true  end,  which  lies  in  the  next. 

It  is  quite  evident  (1)  that  a  man  of  sense,  not  a  philosopher 
only,  ought  to  propose  to  himself  and  try  to  solve  the  problem 
whether  the  affirmations  of  Christianity  are  true  or  false;  ('2) 
that  such  a  problem  is  a  moral  problem,  for  Christianity  formu- 
lates a  morality,  although  it  implies  a  metaphysic  (every 
morality  necessarily  does  so);  (3)  that  the  problem  will  be 
humanly  insoluble  if  man  (as  the  relativists  say)  is  capable  of 
knowing  only  those  things  of  which  he  can  have  experience. 
Those  relativists  therefore  who  claim  to  deduce  from  their 
doctrine  the  falsity  of  Christianity  do  not  know  what  they  are 
talking  about. 

To  show  that  relativistie  morality  is  the  true  one,  it  is 
necessary  to  confute  Christianity,  which  excludes  it  because  it 
establishes  another.  To  confute  Christianity  one  must  not 
begin  by  asserting  that  man  is  capable  of  knowing  only  what 
can  be  experienced.  For  this  affirmation  implies  of  necessity 
the  existence  of  a  -m//////  -which  con  not  he,  experienced,  of 
which  we,  furnished  as  we  are  with  a  limited  intelligence, 
could  never  know  anything  by  hnnwu  int'tinx.  If  we  cannot 
know  anything  of  it  by  human  means,  how  can  we  prove  by 

1   E.  Hii^uony,  in  litvuc  </.  ,sV.  I'hilos  ft  Tht-ol.,  April  11JU!>,  p.  -J.'2('<. 


326  The  Great  Problems 

human  means  that  we  cannot  know  anything  of  it  by  super- 
human means ? 

To  confute  Christianity  one  must  first  of  all  exclude  the  idea 
that  human  intelligence  is  limited,  enclosed  in  a  field  outside 
which  something  exists  which  of  necessity  would  ever  remain 
inaccessible  to  that  intelligence.  One  must  not  say  that  we 
can  know  only  what  can  be  experienced,  but  show  that  all 
tliat  exists  or  happens  is  reducible  to  what  can  be  experienced. 

It  would  then  be  necessary  to  show  that  Christianity  is 
incompatible  with  the  identity  of  the  real  with  what  can  be 
experienced,  an  identity  which  then  would  be  beyond  question, 
true  and  certain  unconditionally  and  absolutely.  This  second 
proof  will  perhaps  be  less  easy  than  we  think,  but  let  us 
suppose  it  given.  Let  us  suppose  further  (although  this  sup- 
position also  is  open  to  discussion)  that,  Christianity  being  put 
away,  we  concluded  from  that  there  was  no  other  morality  than 
the  so-called  relative  morality. 

In  that  case  relative  would  have  been  transformed  eo  ipso 
into  morality  with  no  addition.  It  would  be  the  morality, 
known  and  certain,  unconditionally  true,  absolute  morality. 

A.  Fouillee  notes  excellently : l 

"  Agir  comme  si  la  patrie  ou  I'humanite,"  or  any  other  ideal 
whatever,  "  avaient  un  droit  superieur  a  notre  interet,  a  notre 
vie;  voila  qui  exige  un  sacrifice.  Si,  en  derniere  analyse,  ce 
droit  superieur  est  imaginaire,  nous  nous  serons  attraptjs  nous- 
inemes.  .  .  .  Personne  ne  voudra  lacher  ...  la  proie  pour 
1'ombre.  On  ne  pent  done  se  passer  de  raisons  bien  fondees 
dans  Faction  morale,  qui  pose  le  grand  problerne : — Quo  vaut 
la  vie,  et  qu'est-ce  qui  fait  la  valeur  du  vivre,  ou,  an  besoin,  du 
mourir  ? " 

If  these  words  prove  anything — -none  can  deny  that  they 
prove  something  — they  prove  the  impossibility  of  constructing 
a  morality  without  constructing  at  the  same  time  a  complete 
philosophy  which  lias  a  definite  character  and  value.  Morality 
implies  the  determination  of  the  values  of  life  and  death,  of 
man  in  relation  to  the  whole,  and  of  the  whole:  it  consists  in 
that  determination.  Xow  philosophy,  in  its  true  and  precise 
meaning,  metaphysics,  is  nothing  else.  Either  metaphysics  can 
solve  its  problems,  or  morality  cannot  solve  its  cither.  For  the 

1   Morale  il.es  Ide'ta-forcen,  Paris,  1908,  p.  xxx. 


Metaphysics  and  Morality  327 

problems  of  metaphysics  and  the  problems  of  morality  are  sub- 
stantially the  same.  They  are  the  Great  Problems. 

M.  Fouillee,  however,  is  not  of  the  same  opinion.  As 
metaphysics  is  a  field  of  never-ending  controversies  (and  they 
concern  essentials,  not  secondary  points),  if  morality  depended 
on  it,  it  would  have  to  "se  passer  de  raisons  bien  fondees," 
which  it  cannot  admit  in  any  way.  And  that,  on  the  one  hand, 
seems  evident. 

On  the  other  hand,  there  is  something  else  which  seems  no 
less  evident.  Morality,  if  constructed  independently  of  meta- 
physics, may  or  may  not  be  in  agreement  with  metaphysical 
truth.  In  the  second  case  it  is  by  no  means  "  bien  fondee  sous 
tous  les  rapports."  In  the  first,  it  is  the  integrating  principal 
part  of  metaphysics.  The  metaphysical  principle  and  the 
moral  principle,  then,  coincide ;  and  while  we  fancied  we  had 
only  constructed  a  morality,  we  have  at  the  same  time  con- 
structed a  metaphysic  also. 

"  Nous  ne  savons  pas,"  says  M.  Fouillee,  "  si  .  .  .  le  monde 
est  reellement  juste,"  and  conversely  we  cannot  either  "affirmer 
avec  certitude  que  le  monde  est  en  opposition  avec  la  moralite."  * 
What  consequence  can  be  deduced  from  this  ignorance  of  ours  ? 
"  Une  seule  conduite  nous  est  done  permise :  agir  comme  si 
nous  comptions  que  le  triomphe  de  la  bonte  morale  n'est  pas 
impossible  .  .  .  et  que  .  .  .  il  est  entre  nos  mains."  2  Words 
which  fully  justify  the  observation  of  M.  Hugueny : 3  "  Le 
simple  rapprochement  des  premieres  et  des  dernieres  pages  du 
livre  montre  a  1'evidence  qui  son  auteur  n'a  pas  trouve  le  fonde- 
inent  qu'il  declarait  necessaire  a  la  moralite." 

M.  Fouillee  goes  further  still,  asserting  that  "  le  doute 
speculatif  sur  la  valeur  objective  de  1' ideal  lui-meme,  non  plus 
seuleinent  sur  la  possibilite  de  son  regne,  nous  semble  etre  une 
condition  de  la  moralite  pratique,"4  and  that  "nous  agissons 
comme  .si  notre  raison  pratique  commandait  avec  une  valeur 
objective,  non  puree  que  notre  raison  pratique  commando  avec 
une  valour  pratiqueinent  objective"5  and  lastly,  that  "la 
moralite  est  mi  effort  pour  amener  a  la  realite  une  idee  qui 
n'est  pas  encore  reelle  dans  le  monde  a  nous  connu,  dont  la 
realisation  n'est  memo  pas  deinontre  possible,  mais  n'est  pas 

1  Uf).  cit.,  p.  3G8.  2  H'id.  3  Loc.  cit.,  p.  234. 

*  Up.  cit.,  p.  369.  4  Hid.,  p.  371. 


328  The  Great  Problems 

non  plus  demontre  impossible.  Le  devoir  est  une  creation  de 
notre  pensee,  par  laquelle  nous  nous  irnposons  de  produire 
reellement  le  meilleur  en  nous  et  en  dehors  de  nous  .  . 
Quelque  indemontrable  que  soit  la  victoire  finale  de  1'idde  dans 
1'univers,  1'hoinine  lutte  pour  elle,  meurt  pour  elle.  N'y  eut- 
il  dans  1'infinite  du  temps  et  de  1'espace  qu'une  seule  chance  de 
faire  triompher  I'universelle  bonte,  1'homme  veut  la  pour- 
suivre." * 

M.  Hugueny  replies  justly  that  "1'idee  pratique  n'est 
idee-force  que  dans  la  mesure  ou  elle  est  vraie,  c'est-a-dire 
'  conforme  aux  lois  de  la  nature,'  idee  realisable,  distincte  de 
1'utopie  irrealisable."  *  In  fact.  M.  Fouill^e  himself  recognises 
implicitly  in  the  passages  quoted  that  if  the  realisation  of  the 
idea  were  "  demontre"e  impossible,"  if  there  were  not  even  "  une 
seule  chance  de  faire  triompher  I'universelle  bonte,"  morality 
would  lack  foundation,  and  would  be  hopelessly  vain.3 

We  are  still  at  the  same  point.  The  bare  and  simple  fact 
that  (hitherto)  "  we  have  not  shown,"  &c.,  proves  nothing ; 
we  cannot  infer  anything  from  it.  We  must  make  certain 
at  least  that  what  has  not  hitherto  been  proved  cannot  be 
proved,  that  the  "  chance "  of  which  we  speak  cannot  be 
eliminated.  But  how  can  we  do  this  without  constructing  a 
metaphysic  ? 

It  is  quite  true,  and  M.  Fouilloe  is  right  in  repeating,  that 
morality  "  exige  des  principes  immanentes,"  or,  in  short,  must 
be  autonomous.  The  true  and  supreme  rule  cannot  but  coin- 
cide with  a  constituent  law  of  the  person.  To  obey  a  precept 
which  comes  to  me  from  outside,  I  must  have  a  reason 
which  is  known  to  me — which  is  therefore  not  outside  my 
consciousness. 

I  note  in  passing  that  the  principle  of  immanence  in 
morality,  as  in  metaphysics,  is  by  no  means  so  opposed  to  Chris- 
tianity as  many  believe.  "  La  loi  morale  n'est  .  .  .  pas,  selon 
1'idee  chretienne,  la  legislation  totalement  he"teronome  qu'on 
se  figure  quelqucfois  imposee  par  une  volonte  completement 
otrangcre  a  la  notre ;  elle  est  le  dessin  ty pique  du  developpe- 
inent  normal  :ippele  par  la  constitution  de  notre  etre.  ...  La 
loi  morale  a  laquelle  nous  obeissons  est  done  a  la  fois  de  noux 

1   Ot).  fit.,  p.  38.'5.  2   Loc.  cit.,  p.  -2M. 

*  The  words  quoted  are  M.  Fouillue'a  (op.  cit.,  p.  vii). 


Metaphysics  and  Morality  329 

et  de  Dieu  comme  noire  tire  lui-m£me." l  Incidentally  I  call 
attention  to  this  last  passage  which  I  have  italicised.  What  is 
ours,  including  our  being,  is  doubtless  ours,  but  at  the  same 
time  God's  also.  Man  is  in  God  and  God  is  (immanent)  in  man. 
Individual  being  is  not  conceivable  apart  from  universal  being.2 
But  let  us  continue  to  quote. 

'•  Pas  d'anomalie,  ni  d'hete'ronomie  absolue  dans  I'organisa- 
tion  de  la  vie  humaine,  inais  1'autonomie  relative  d'un  etre  qui 
est  a  lui-metne  sa  providence,  sous  la  grande  Providence,  dont 
il  depend  en  tout  et  pour  tout.  L'orientation  ainsi  donne  a 
notre  vie  est  attrait  persuasif  bicn  plus  que  loi  imperative. 
Nous  disons,  nous  aussi,  qu'elle  ne  devient  imperative  qu'a 
raison  des  resistances  qu'elle  rencontre  dans  les  inclinations 
particulieres  et  inferieures  de  la  sensibilite  .  .  .  Lex  justo  iwn 
est  posita."  3 

In  other  words,  the  rule,  the  precept,  can  be  reduced  funda- 
mentally to  an  intrinsic  law.  The  autonomy  is  relative  in  so 
far  as  man,  although  God  is  immanent  in  him,  is  not  identical 
with  God.  He  is  a  distinct  individual  in  the  bosom  of  God. 
M.  Hugueny  will  not  perhaps  accept  this  inference,  nor  the 
doctrine  developed  in  the  text,  but  the  difference  between  him 
and  me  (if  there  is  a  difference)  is  not  one  of  those  which  pre- 
vent mutual  understanding.  1  have  wished  to  note  this, 
because  it  seems  to  me  that  the  understanding  of  my  doctrine 
and  its  right  interpretation  are  facilitated  by  it.  Let  us  con- 
clude this  too  long  digression  by  a  short  note. 

M.  Fouillee,  we  said,  is  right  in  recurring  to  the  concept  of 
immanence,  but  this  concept  must  be  rightly  understood. 
Here  it  is  impossible  to  avoid  making  reference — very  brief,  of 
course — to  the  doctrine  of  Kant. 

According  to  Kant  there  are.  on  the  one  hand,  the  "  human 
mind,"  and  on  the  other  the  "  thing  in  itself."  The  human 
mind  (the  mind  which  is  only  human)  has  its  forms  and  its 
categories,  through  which  alone  it  can  come  into  relation  with 
the  thing  in  itself.  It  only  knows  the  thing  in  itself  in  so  far 
as  it  bends  it  to  its  own  forms  and  categories,  imprinting  them 
upon  it,  and  transforming  it  into  a  phenomenon.  The  pheno- 
menal universe  is  regulated  by  human  reason — the  universe,  as 

1   K.  HujjiK.'iiy,  Inc.  cit.,  il.'ls  *?</.  -  I'f.  chapter  on  li.-in^,  ant>:. 

;1   Loc.  cit.,  p.  :>;}!>. 


33Q  The  Great  Problems 

it  appears  to  us,  not  the  universe  as  it  exists  "in  itself,"  of 
which  we  neither  do  nor  can  know  anything. 

The  doctrine  taken  hi  this  form  is  invalid.  The  supposition 
of  a  universe  "  in  itself"  has  no  shadow  of  foundation.  Worse, 
being  evidently  an  application  of  the  category  of  reality,  it  is 
intrinsically  contradictory.  We  must  therefore  reject  it,  and 
recognise  that  there  is  no  other  real  universe  than  the  one 
which  can  appear  to  us.1 

Having  eliminated  the  distinction  between  the  "pheno- 
menal" and  the  "  in  itself,"  and  reduced  the  latter  to  the  former, 
what  remains  of  the  "  Copernican  Revolution  "  ? 

There  remains  the  recognition  of  a  truth  of  such  great 
importance,  that  it  might  be  called  the  truth.2  The  reason  by 
which  the  real  universe  is  regulated  coincides  with  human 
reason.  In  other  words,  we  are  reasoning  beings,  capable  of 
knowing  things,  because  that  same  reason  which  is  implicit  or 
immanent  in  the  universe  is  implicit  or  immanent  in  us. 

Therefore,  the  forms  of  our  sense-perception,  the  categories 
of  our  thinking,  do  not  mark  limitations  to  our  knowing. 
Rather,  they  are  means  whereby  our  knowing  can  transcend 
any  limitations  whatsoever.  A  problem,  of  which  it  can  be 
shown  that  it  cannot  be  solved  by  us,  is  a  fictitious  problem 
devoid  of  meaning.  And  if  any  one  were  to  ask,  for  instance, 
"How  many  vertices  has  equality?"  the  question  cannot  be 
answered,  because  it  is  a  crazy  question,  not  because  the  answer 
requires  a  superhuman  intellect.  Agnosticism  is  absurd,  and 
M.  Fouillee,  not  being  a  contemporary  of  Kant,  is  wrong  in 
trying  to  make  use  of  it  to  solve  the  problem  of  morality. 

Hence  we  conclude,  again,  the  impossibility  of  separating 
morality  from  metaphysics. 

In  fact,  if  morality  is  immanent  in  us,  it  is  dictated  to 
us  by  reason,  and  if  that  same  reason  which  is  in  us  is  also 
implicit  in  the  universe  and  dominates  it,  the  discovery  (the 
precise  formulation)  of  the  moral  law  will  be  a  discovery  of 
metaphysics  (of  a  law  of  the  universe).  Conversely,  supposing 

1  This  does  not  moan  that  which  actually  appears  to  one  particular  man 
at  a  particular  time  and  place.  I  liavo  never  seen  America,  and  perhaps 
never  shall  see  it,  but  America  is  as  visible  to  me  as  to  the  Americans. 

-  What  part  in  this  discovery  belongs  to  Kant  is  a  historical  problem 
into  which  we  must  not  enter. 


Metaphysics  and  Morality  331 

a  question  of  metaphysics  to  be  still  unsolved,  in  the  same  way 
and  in  the  same  sense,  a  question  of  morality  will  be  unsolved. 
By  rendering  explicit  to  us  the  requirements,  theoretical  as 
well  as  practical,  of  reason,  metaphysics  and  morality  are 
constructed  at  the  same  time. 

The  problem  of  rendering  the  requirements  of  reason  ex- 
plicit to  us  is  undoubtedly  capable  of  solution,  but  I  do  not 
think  that  M.  Fouillee  has  solved  it. 

According  to  his  doctrine,  the  principle  of  morality  is 
reduced  to  <;  1'idee-force  de  la  bonte."  Now,  we  do  not  deny 
that  this  "  ide'e-force  "  has  a  moral  value,  but  it  is  permissible 
to  doubt  that  it  has  an  absolute  value.  For  me  "  la  conception 
d'un  bien  qui  serait  a  la  fois  mon  bien  et  notre  bien  a  tons  "  l  is 
undoubtedly  valid.  The  normal  man  is  not  what  his  reason 
requires  him  to  be  unless  he  is  good.  But  thin  requirement 
and  the  normality  of  the  man  are  subordinate  perhaps  to 
actual  circumstances  which  might  be  different,  to  our  living  in 
a  society,  more  or  less  imperfectly  arranged,  but  still  arranged. 

M.  Fouillee  does  not  know  "  si,  en  fait,  1'univers  est  capable" 2 
of  realising  that  idea.  As  we  have  already  noted  with  M. 
Hugueny,  this  ignorance,  while  it  lasts,  excludes  our  recognising 
an  absolute  value  in  the  same  idea.  It  is  in  vain  to  answer 
"  ce  dernier  probleme  se  pose  apres  non  avant."  3  Whether  it 
is  set  before  or  after,  the  uncertainty  of  its  solution  leads  to  an 
equal  uncertainty  as  to  the  value  of  the  idea.  We  said  so  but 
u  moment  ago.  Supposing  a  question  of  metaphysics  is  still 
unsolved,  in  the  same  manner  and  in  the  same  sense  a  question 
of  morality  will  also  be  unsolved. 

Realisability  is  a  necessary  condition  of  the  value  of  a 
practical  idea.  To  have  an  absolute  value,  a  moral  idea  must 
be  absolutely  realisable,  under  all  circumstances,  presupposing 
only  the  will  of  the  subject  which  ought  to  realise  it.  "  L'idee- 
force  do  la  bonte "  does  not  satisfy  this  condition,  as  M. 
Fouillee  himself  confesses.  Can  we  find  another  "  idee  "  which 
would  satisfy  it  ? 

Can  we  find  one,  I  mean,  with  ccrtu  infi/  ?  That  is  to  say, 
independently,  not  of  metaphysics.4  but  of  questions  of  mcta- 

1  Op.  cit.,  p.  383.  -  Hid.  3  Ibid. 

*  This  is  nonsense,  for  tho  finding  of  the  idea  is,  as  wo  have  said  again 
and  a^ain,  thu  solution  of  a  metaphysical  problem. 


332  The  Great  Problems 

physics  which  are  unsolved,  disputed,  and  to  be  solved  no  one 
knows  when  or  how — We  have  thus  rendered  M.  Fouillee  the 
justice  which  is  his  due.  Why  does  he  wish  to  divorce  morality 
from  metaphysics  ?  Because  a  morality  which  depended  on  a 
problematical  metaphysic  would  be  likewise  problematical, 
would  not  be  the  morality  "bien  fondee"  which  is  needed. 
We  say  the  same,  but  we  add  that,  if  in  metaphysics  there 
are  always  disputed  questions,  there  are  also  points  on  which 
there  neither  is  nor  can  be  disagreement  among  all  who  are 
informed  of  the  present  state  of  the  investigation.  Assuming 
as  fundamental  tfiese  points,  and  these  only,  we  satisfy  M. 
Fouillee's  just  desire.  We  satisfy  it  in  another  way,  but  in  the 
only  possible  way.1  It  is  an  idea  not  precisely  of  goodness,  but 
of  coherence  and  force.  This  means,  in  substance,  of  absolute 
rationality.  I  do  not  deny  that  man  ought  to  be  "  good " 
always  under  any  circumstances  whatever,  with  any  one  what- 
ever;  but — let  us  understand  each  other — I  say  that  we  cannot 
prove  it  until  it  is  proved  that  this  "  idea  of  goodness "  is 
realisable,  until,  in  short,  some  hitherto  unsolved  metaphysical 
problems  are  solved.  But  unless  man  wishes  to  contradict  that 
reason  of  which  he  is  conscious,  he  ought  to  value  the  person — 
that  is  to  say,  the  reason — more  than  all  the  rest ;  he  ought  to 
subordinate  to  reason  all  that  is  outside  it ;  he  ought  to  organise 
himself  into  a  firm,  organic,  and  vigorous  unity,  which  ought 
to  be  himself  (an  "  /,"  not  simply  an  animal) — himself  in  the 
full  and  true  meaning  of  the  word.  Of  this  there  is  no  doubt. 

Nor  is  there  any  doubt  that  man  can,  if  he  will,  attain  such 
an  end.  For  the  end  consists  precisely  in  a  certain  direction  of 
the  will.  Let  external  circumstances  and  internal  psychical 
conditions  be  as  they  will,  the  important  thing  is  that  the  will 
should  not  subordinate  itself  to  these  elements,  nor  be  subdued 
by  them,  but  should  free  itself  from  them,  and  assert  itself  in 
the  fullness  of  its  free  vigour.  In  other  words,  the  important, 
the  sufficient,  thing  is  that  the  will  should  exist.  Naturally,  a 
will  which  was  inefficacious  (externally)  through  its  own  fault 
would  not  bo  the  will  under  discussion;  it  would  be  subordinated 
and  subdued :  but  an  external  inefficaciousness  which  is  due  to 
circumstances  does  not  suppress  or  diminish  the  act  of  the  will. 

1  \V»*  hiivu  already  found  the  idea  sought  for.  See  the  chapter  on 
Values. 


Metaphysics  and  Morality  333 

This  remains  intrinsically  the  same,  whether  circumstances 
allow  themselves  to  be  modified  by  it,  or  not. 

The  intrinsic,  absolute,  supreme  value  of  the  person — this  is 
the  truly  fundamental  idea  of  practical  philosophy — the  practical 
principle. 

The  supposition  that  the  fundamental  idea  can  bo  other  than 
this  leads,  in  fact,  immediately  to  an  absurdity.  You  say  that 
man  ought  to  try  to  realise  an  idea  of  goodness.  So  be  it. 
But,  I  ask,  how  will  he  be  able  to  carry  out  his  attempt  if  he  is 
not  capable  of  willing,  of  freeing  his  activity  from  every  external 
pressure,  by  subordinating  it  to  reason  alone  or  by  only  subor- 
dinating it  to  himself, — of  giving  expression  to  it  consciously  as 
an  end  to  itself?  The  possibility  of  attaining  any  other  end 
implies  necessarily  that  this  end  is  already  attained. 

There  is  evil  in  the  world.  I  am  not  speaking  of  the  pain 
imposed  upon  us  by  necessity  (whether  it  comes  to  us  from 
outside  or  rises  within  us).  Although  this  also  is  an  evil,  and 
constitutes  an  obstacle  against  which  the  will  must  struggle,  an 
obstacle  which  up  to  a  certain  point  serves  as  a  help  to  the  will, 
as  a  point  of  support,  but  which  can  also  become. insuperable. 
I  am  speaking  of  the  pain  inflicted  on  us  by  the  perversity  of 
others. 

It  is  no  good  worrying  our  brains  over  the  first  origin  of  per- 
versity. But  without  doubt  the  man  who  su tiers  from  the 
perversity  of  another  is  very  easily  perverted. 

"  La  man  degli  avi  insanguinata 
Semino  1'ingiustizia,  i  padri  1'hanno 
Coltivata  col  sangue,  e  ormai  la  terra 
Altra  me.sse  non  d;i." 

Only  besides  and  even  more  than  Mood,  we  must  speak  of  filth 
"  teterrima  belli  Causa."  And  the  worst  evil  wrought  by  perver- 
sity is  precisely  the  perversion  of  him  who  is  the  object  of  it. 

On  the  person  or  will  of  another  a  man  cannot  exercise 
direct  influence;  but  he  can  do  so  indirectly,  thanks  to  the 
relations  of  the  person  with  the  animal.  The  will  is  not  bound- 
but  the  body  is.  and  in  the  long  run  the  chains  of  the  body 
end  by  weakening,  enslaving,  and  perverting  the  will.  A  man 
perfect  by  the  standard  of  the  practical  principle  would  not  be 
depraved  in  any  case,  but  where  are  the  perfect  men  > 


334  The  Great  Problems 

We  must  note,  too,  that  every  man  begins  by  being  most  im- 
perfect, a  true  brute,  however  sweet  a  baby — a  brute  capable 
of  beinjr  educated,  but  needing  to  be  educated :  one  which 

o  o 

through  the  circumstances  in  which  it  was  born,  through  the 
circumstances  to  which  its  parents  were  reduced  by  the  acts  of 
others,  may  be  condemned  to  grow  up  in  misery  and  abjectness, 
and  under  oppression  which  will  pervert  it.  These  are  facts  to 
which  nothing  can  be  opposed  except  idle  chatter. 

How  ought  man  to  conduct  himself  in  face  of  the  perversity 
which  assails  him  ? — in  face  of  the  powerful  enemy  who  dis- 
turbs and  hinders  his  free  personal  development,  who  tends  to 
pervert  him  and  to  place  his  children  in  positions  in  which 
they  will  inevitably  be  perverted  ?  He  must  be  resigned,  but 
not  with  a  stolid  resignation  so  as  not  to  feel  grief  and  degrada- 
tion. Resignation  is  not  needed  for  this — alcohol  is  better.  He 
must  endure  and  restrain  himself,  not  give  way  to  fits  of  passion, 
to  useless  lamentation,  wasting  his  strength  and  losing  that 
dignity  which  can  be  maintained  in  spite  of  the  scorn  of  others. 
But.  at  the  same  time,  he  must  act. 

When  assailed,  a  man  defends  himself,  and  retaliates  if 
need  be.  Not  madly,  of  course — not  without  regard  for  others 
and  himself,  not  so  as  to  injure  his  own  cause.  The  virtue 
which  permits  us  to  keep  defence  and  offence  within  due  limits 
is  called  prudence.  But  it  is  not  our  intention  to  set  forth  the 
rules  of  prudence.  The  important  thing  is  to  make  definite 
the  profound  state  of  mind,  the  final  direction  of  the  will,  which 
is  imposed  by  the  practical  principle,  by  reason,  on  the  man 
who  reacts  against  offence. 

Christianity  says,  Love  your  enemies:  do  good  to  them 
that  hate  you.  This  precept,  according  to  the  interpretation 
now  accepted  and  true,  docs  not  absolutely  forbid  us  to  injure 
one  who  wishes  to  injure  us,  but  forbids  us  to  injure  him  with 
hostile  intent.  Within  certain  limits  I  may  injure  him,  but 
only  in  self-defence,  ever  keeping  myself  friendly  to  the  man 
with  whom  I  am  compelled  to  fight. 

M.  Fouillee  does  not  think  otherwise.  Reason,  in  his 
opinion,  imposes  love  upon  us,  and  directs  us  to  realise  as  far  as 
\vu  can  '•  le  re^ne  du  supreme  et  mutuel  amour."  * 

The  supreme  law  has  its  root  in  a  divine  precept,  according 
1  Op.  tit.,  p.  199. 


Metaphysics  and  Morality  335 

to  Christianity;  in  human  reason,  according  to  M.  Fouille"e. 
Before  an  exact  interpretation  of  the  divine  and  of  reason  the 
difference  vanishes.  (We  have  shown  this  before,  and  it  results 
from  our  whole  work.)  M.  Fouillee  is  in  agreement  with 
Christianity  in  recognising  a  supremo  value  in  "  1'idee-force  de 
la  bonteV'  Is  this  doctrine  true  ? 

"  L'idee-force  de  la  bonte  "  has  a  value  which  no  one  can  or 
does  deny.  In  general,  normally,  the  relations  of  a  man  with 
other  men  are,  or  at  least  ought  to  be,  tinged  with  a  kindly 
feeling,  much  less  vivid  than  that  which  unites  friends  or  the 
members  of  a  well-ordered  family,  but  on  the  whole  of  the  same 
character. 

This  law  of  love  is  normally  valid.  Is  it  always  valid  ? 
Even  in  reference  to  the  abnormal  relations  of  man  with  a 
perverse  enemy  who  is  trying  to  degrade  and  pervert  him  ? 
Christianity  arid  M.  Fouillee  say  Yes.  What  does  their  assertion 
imply  ?  It  implies  the  permanence  of  values,  a  thing  of  which 
Christianity  has  given  itself  a  very  precise  and  clear  account. 
The  permanence  of  values  and  the  absolute  universality  of  the 
law  of  love  are  inseparable  coessential  elements  of  Christianity. 
We  understand  this.  If  my  value  remains  for  ever,  my  suffer- 
ings have  only  a  secondary  importance  though  they  be 
extremely  severe  and  last  all  my  lite.  Let  us  understand  each 
other.  He  who  inflicts  them  on  me,  and  trios  to  destroy  my 
value,  commits  an  infamous  action  and  destroys  his  own  value. 
But  if  I  support  them  with  firmness,  so  as  to  make  them  serve 
to  increase  and  consolidate  my  value,  I  convert  them  into  a 
gain.  And  I  can  make  them  serve  to  such  an  end,  for  the  end 
is  attainable,  and  my  knowledge  that  it  is  so  will  give  me  the 
strength  I  need.  Therefore  we  have  said  that  sufferings  have  a 

a  Cn 

secondary  importance.  A  man  on  his  way  to  take  possession  of 
a  rich  inheritance  thinks  himself  unhappy  because  in  the 
railway  carriage  there  is  someone  whose  company  he  dislikes. 
Such  a  man  is  reasonable  in  comparison  with  one  who  is 
convinced  of  the  permanence  of  values  and  yet  laments  over 
anything  which  happens  to  him  in  this  world. 

Not  even  the  most  legitimate  preoccupations  relative  to 
others — to  our  children,  for  instance — can  make  us  despair.  If 
values  are  permanent,  there  is,  then,  a  universal  order  which 
includes  values,  and  no  on<'  will  lose  his  value  except  by  his 


336  The  Great  Problems 

own  fault.  My  children,  whom  my  perverse  enemy  wishes  to 
pervert  in  his  hatred  of  me,  and  whom  I  cannot  defend,  will  be 
defended  by  the  universal  order — by  Providence. 

In  short,  the  enemy,  in  reference  to  what  is  truly  important, 
is  powerless  to  hurt  me ;  he  only  hurts  himself.  I  have,  then,  no 
motive  to  nourish  any  other  feeling  towards  him  than  one  of 
compassion.  Rather,  if  my  will  is  truly  conformed  to  the 
universal  order,  I  cannot  but  wish  and  try  to  the  best  of  my 
ability  that  my  enemy's  will  may  also  be  conformed  to  it.  His 
value  will  be  no  less  sacred  to  me  than  my  own.  This  is  as 
much  as  to  say,  I  shall  love  my  enemy  as  myself. 

But  what  if  we  admit  that  values  are  not  permanent  ? 

M.  Fouillee  says :  *  "  L'homme  prononce  pour  son  compte  le 
fat  idea  .  .  .  avec  1'espoir  que  la  lumiere  intellectuelle  se 
propagera  a  1'infmi.  Quelque  indemontrable  que  soit  la  victoire 
finale  do  1'idee  dans  1'univers,  1'homme  lutte  pour  elle,  rneurt 
pour  elle."  Words  which  sound  well,  but  have  no  assignable 
meaning. 

I  have  said,  and  I  say  it  again :  Suppose  values  are  not 
permanent,  the  obligation,  reasonableness,  and  value  of  good- 
ness are  subordinated  to  the  normality  of  circumstances,  a 
normality  which  has  nothing  universal  or  necessary,  on  this 
hypothesis. 

This  is  all  but  evident.  Who  pronounces  the  "  fiat  idea  "  ? 
"  L'homme,"  says  Fouillee  ;  but  the  answer  is  insufficient.  Is  the 
"  fiat  idea  "  pronounced  by  "  1'homme  "  in  so  far  as  reasonable  ? 
In  so  far,  that  is,  as  that  same  reason,  which  rules  the  universe 
and  whose  decrees  have  a  necessary  fulfilment,  becomes  explicit 
and  conscious  in  bis  consciousness?  Or  by  "1'homme"  in  so 
far  as  endowed  with  a  certain  psycho-physiological  organisation, 
in  so  far  as  he  has  had  ;i  certain  historical  development  and  (in 
virtue  of  these  circumstances)  has  created  for  himself  a  certain 
normality  of  social  relations  ? 

In  the  first  case  the  "  fiat  idea "  is  pronounced  by  rnison 
through  the  mouth  of  the  man.  It  is  a  universal  absolute  law. 
Man  is  right,  then,  to  struggle  and  die  for  the  idea;  but,  on  the 
other  hand,  to  suppose  that  "  le  vi('toire  finale  do  1'idee  dans 
1'univers"  is  "  indemontrable  "  is  nonsense.  In  the  second  case, 
the  ''fiat  idea"  is  only  pronounced  by  man  as  a  limited  being, 

1  Up.  cit.,  p.  363. 


Metaphysics  and  Morality  337 

socially  organised  in  a  certain  way — a  way  which  certainly  has 
a  value,  but  not  an  absolute  value.  To  pronounce  it,  man  must 
have  been  endowed  with  reason,  but  this  pronouncement  of  his 
is  not  the  expression  of  rational  necessity;  it  is  simply  the 
expression  of  a  rule,  found  convenient  in  most  cases,  in  normal 
cases,  but  without  any  title  to  absolute  validity.  It  is  like  the 
rules  of  good  manners.  They  should  not  be  broken  without 
reason,  but  there  may  be  reasons  for  breaking  them.  A  night- 
watchman,  for  instance,  does  well  to  take  in  his  arms  a  young 
lady  in  her  night-dress,  to  save  her  from  a  fire.  "  L'idee-force 
de  la  bonte "  is  certainly  more  valid  than  the  rules  of  good 
manners,  but  in  this  second  case  it  has  no  absolute  value  even 
for  "  1'homme."  There  may  bo  reasons  for  rejecting  it. 

The  practical  principle  is  included  in  the  concept  of  person 
(one  consciousness,  explicitly  rational),  and  includes  it.  It  is 
substantially  equivalent  to  it.  It  has,  then,  an  absolute  value. 
And  nothing  can  have  an  absolute  practical  value  unless  it  is 
deducible  from  the  practical  principle.  Morality,  as  we 
commonly  understand  it,  is  not  so  deducible  unless  we  admit 
the  permanence  of  values.  Therefore,  unless  values  are  per- 
manent, ordinary  morality  has  no  absolute  value,  and  the 
practical  principle  is  (to  use  a  celebrated  formula)  "  beyond 
good  and  evil." 

Supposing  values  not  to  be  permanent,  it  is  not  impossible, 
improbable,  or  rare  for  a  man  who  always  takes  for  guide  the 
idea  of  goodness  (ordinary  morality)  to  succeed  thus  in  destroy- 
ing his  own  value.  In  these  cases  (and  on  this  hypothesis) 
there  is  only  one  means  of  having  value,  to  free  oneself  from 
the  idea  of  goodness  as  from  a  prejudice. 

The  enemy  cannot  bind  my  will !  But  ho  hampers  it  in  a 
thousand  ways,  and  this  is  an  evil,  absolute  because  without 
remedy.  Once  exclude  the  possibility  of  my  using  my  will  to 
preserve  my  value  for  when  I  shall  bo  dead,  and  1  could  make 
no  other  use  of  it  than  to  light  my  enemy  into  <-<trdr,  without 
losing  my  own  balance,  of  course,  but  without  pity.  "Miseri- 
cordia  vulgi."  said  Caesar,  who  did  not  admit  the  permanence 
of  values. 

The  enemy  is  a  madman,  since  he  makes  use  of  reason 
against  my  value  and  thereby  destroys  his  own.  He  is  a  brute 
with  curtain  human  characteristics.  It'  1  have  the  power,  I 

Y 


338  The  Great  Problems 

crush  him  like  a  loathsome  poisonous  worm.  It  is  my  right 
and  my  duty.  Personality  is  the  highest  right  and  the  highest 
duty,  because  the  highest  value.  If  violated,  it  must  re-assert 
itself,  and  it  cannot  without  turning  upon  the  violator.  The 
radical  reaction,  which  tends  to  destroy  the  enemy's  value,  is  an 
essential  element  of  the  reconstitution  of  the  violated  person. 
It  is  the  re-establishment  of  equilibrium. 

One  who  admits  the  perpetuity  of  values,  who  admits  a 
universal  order  including  the  values,  who  admits  God,  leaves  to 
God  the  care  of  re-establishing  the  equilibrium.  But  if  my 
value  is  not  protected  and  assured  by  a  universal  law,  it  remains 
for  me  to  defend  it  with  my  own  strength.  Shall  I  fail  ? — may 
be.  But  not  without  having  inflicted  on  my  vile  foe  wounds 
which  will  give  proof,  which  will  give  me  consciousness  of  my 
strength,  which  will  be  the  ultimate  realisation  of  my  value. 
Human  laws  forbid  me  to  take  justice  into  my  own  hands,  you 
say  !  But  I  do  not  go  against  human  laws.  You  -will  not  claim 
that  I  should  respect  them  while  they  defend  the  enemy 
against  me  and  have  not  defended  me  from  him.  In  any  case 
I  obey  them  ;  I  will  do  nothing  that  they  do  not  allow.  But  I 
will  make  use  of  the  liberty  they  leave  me  to  make  the  enemy 
feel  what  an  immense  loss  of  value  he  has  brought  on  himself 
in  provoking  me. 

But  every  offence  I  inflict  on  the  personality  of  another 
implies  a  diminution  of  my  own.1  The  offences  with  which  I 
retaliate  for  the  offences  received  are  no  exception.  The  re- 
establishment  of  value  which  is  obtained  by  retaliation  is 
therefore  always  imperfect.  It  is  a  gain  always  associated  with 
a  loss. 

It  does  not  follow  from  this  that  we  ought  not  to  retaliate. 
(I  am  speaking  of  that  retaliation  which  is  punishment;  the 
lawfulness  of  defence  is  beyond  question.)  Always,  be  it  under- 
stood, on  the  supposition  that  values  are  not  permanent.  If 
values  are  not  permanent,  that  re-establishment,  imperfect  as 
it  is,  is  the  least  cril. 

There  is  nothing  to  marvel  at  if  the  best  possible  be 
reduced  to  the  least  evil.  It  would  be  strange  if  in  a  world 
which  by  our  supposition  docs  not  admit  the  permanence  of 
values,  another  better  were  possible.  Such  a  world  can  only  be 

1  Seo  the  chaptur  on  Values,  towards  the  end. 


Metaphysics  and  Morality  339 

inorganic,  ex  legc,  and  absurd,  at  least  in  reference  to  values. 
In  fact,  it  produces  values  in  order  afterwards  to  destroy  them. 
It  tends  by  one  intrinsic  law  towards  a  good  which  by  another 
of  its  intrinsic  laws  is  rendered  unattainable.  If  we  do  not 
wish  to  admit  the  reality  of  an  absurdity — and  for  my  part  I 
am  not  disposed  to  admit  it — it  seems  to  me  that  we  must 
conclude  that  values  are  permanent.  But  whether  we  are  to 
conclude  it  or  not  is  not  the  question  now.  One  thing  has 
resulted  with  even  excessive  clearness  from  the  foregoing 
discussion.  Those  who  deny  the  permanence  of  values — and 
those  who,  without  denying  it,  cannot  make  up  their  minds  to 
assert  it — cannot  in  any  way  maintain  that  the  common  moral 
ideas  or  "  1'idee-force  de  la  bonte  "  which  would  be  the  sum,  or 
the  vertex,  or  the  base  of  them,  have  a  universal  value. 

The  universality  and  validity  of  morality  cannot  be 
separated  from  the  truth  of  metaphysics;  they  imply  it,  and 
are  implied  in  it.  Morality  that  is  not  fictitious,  provisory,  or 
illusory  is  one  with  metaphysics. 


APPENDIX  VI 

THOUGHT  AND  REALITY 

"  THE  analytical  method,  gradually  eliminating  the  complex, 
must  result  in  a  rigorously  simple  element.  Let  this  element 
be  being,  pure  and  simple,  or,  if  you  will,  not-being.  In  fact 
being  excludes  not-being,  and  vice  versd,  but  neither  of  the  two 
has  any  meaning  except  in  so  far  as  it  excludes  the  other. 
Hence  we  conclude  that  everything  has  its  opposite.  But  the 
two  opposites,  precisely  because  the  signification  of  each  is  only 
the  exclusion  of  the  other,  must  be  given  together.  Their 
mutual  exclusion  is  a  manner  of  mutual  requirement.  There- 
fore thesis,  antithesis,  and  synthesis  are  in  its  three  phases  the 
simplest  law  of  things,  relation.1' l 

Let  us  try  to  understand  clearly. 

In  the  passage  referred  to,  being  is  affirmed  of  the  thesis 
only,  because  of  the  antithesis  it  is  affirmed  that  it  is  not-being t 
and  of  the  synthesis  nothing  is  affirmed  at  all.  But  being  has 
also  undoubtedly  a  sense  in  which  we  can  and  must  predicate  it 
not  only  of  the  thesis,  but  of  the  antithesis  and  synthesis  also. 

The  thesis  is  being.  Of  this  being  we  are  told  that  it  has 
an  opposite,  not-being.  Are  we  meant  to  understand  that  being 
(the  thesis)  has  no  opposite?  No,  for  then  "the  simplest  law 
of  things"  would  vanish.  Since  being  is  not  without  an 
opposite,  we  can  also  say  of  not-being,  the  opposite  of  being, 
that  it  i.s. 

We  come  to  the  synthesis,  the  whole,  of  which  both  being 
and  not-being,  mutually  opposites,  are  parts.2  Since  being  and 
not-being,  thesis  and  antithesis,  have  no  meaning  except  in  so 
far  as  they  exclude  each  other  and  therefore  mutually  require 

1  O.  Hamelin,  Essai  .-mr  /'.>'  elements  principaux  dt  la  representation,  Paris, 
1007,  pp.  1-2.  I  have  not  translated,  but  summarised. 


Thought  and  Reality  341 

each  other,  they  are  only  given  together  in  the  whole  of  which 
they  are  the  elements — of  the  whole  also  we  can  evidently  say 
that  it  is. 

Let  us  suppose  thesis =EV 

antithesis  —  E2 

synthesis  =  E3 

where  Er  E.,,  E3  are  three  determinate  forms  of  one  and  the  same 
most  universal  and  most  indeterminate  concept  of  being,  E. 

We  can  also  suppose  E^ET 
E,=EA 
E~3=ES 
(that  being  which  is  respectively  thesis,  antitliesis,  and  synthesis). 

The  mutual  opposition  between  Et  and  E2,  whereby  Ex=  —  E2 
and  E2=  —  Ep  must  then  be  referred  to  the  factors  (the  deter- 
minate forms)  T  and  A,  not  to  E.  In  fact  if  E  necessarily 
implied  an  opposite,  —  E,  if  being  (even  in  the  most  indeterminate 
sense  and  therefore  in  every  sense)  were  only  the  exclusion  of 
nothingness,  E3  would  also  imply  a  correlative  -  E3,  say  E4. 
And  then  for  the  same  reason  that  Et  and  E.,  cannot  stand 
without  E3>  E;J  and  E4  could  not  stand  without  an  E5.  E3. 
which  was  the  (final)  synthesis,  becomes  a  thesis  with  the 
relative  antithesis  and  synthesis. 

This  is  remarkable  enough.  But  there  is  worse  to  follow. 
E5  always,  for  the  same  reason,  will  imply  an  antithesis  Ec,  and 
a  further  synthesis  E7,  &c.  We  are  involved  in  an  infinite 
series.  As  we  never  arrive  at  a  definitive  synthesis  and  the 
opposites  are  only  given  together,  it  follows  that  not  even  E, 
and  E.,  are  given  in  a  synthesis  which  is  definitive. 

The  supposition  that  the  opposite  of  E;!  is  not  a  new  no- 
thingness E4,  but  the  primitive  Iv,,  does  not  eliminate  the 
infinite  series.  And  it  is  not  admissible.  In  fact  E.,-—  -E, 
and  E4=  —  ET  Either  E.,  and  E4  are  different,  or  E,  and  E,  are 
identical,  and  so  are  all  the  E's,  or  there  is  one  K  only. 

In  conclusion,  Being  (most  universal  and  most  indetermi- 
nate) /«<*  no  apposite. 

It  is  not  enough  to  eliminate  an  error:  we  must  substitute 
knowledge  in  its  place.  For  this  purpose  let  us  try  to  render 
quite  precise  what  is  essential  in  regard  to  the  relations  between 
thought  and  rettlitif.  I  extract  the  following  propositions  (sum- 
marising them)  from  the  work  quoted. 


342  The  Great  Problems 

(1)  "  Knowledge  is  due  to  an  internal  labour  of  the  thinking 
subject.     In  fact,  one  who  wishes  to  explain  thought  by  the 
influence  of  things  must  in  the  end  recognise,  with  Aristotle, 
that  there  can  be  no  activity  (of  the  real)  without  a  passivity  (of 
the  subject)  which  adapts  itself  to  it.     Knowledge  therefore 
does  not  introduce  into  the  subject  elements  extraneous  to  it. 
It  is  a  passing  into  action  of  the  power  of  the  subject." 

(2)  "Hence,  the  unknowable  can  only  be  the  negation  of 
the  knowable.     If  there  were  a  true  unknowable,  we  could 
not  even  think  of  naming  it,  for  we  should  not  have  any  sus- 
picion of  its  existence."     (I  note  incidentally  that  this  criticism 
of    the    unknowable    agrees    perfectly    with    what    has    been 
said  on  the  subject  in  other  appendices  and  in  the  text  of  this 
volume.) 

(3)  "  Knowledge  has  nevertheless  limitations  (cf.  (5)  below). 
Unless  we  wish   to  contradict  the  preceding  propositions,  we 
must  conclude  that  knowledge  is  completed  in  a  certain  time, 
i.e.    knowledge    constitutes    a   system.      Whether    we    see    in 
thought  a  reflection  of  things,  or  admit  that  there  are  no  things 
outside  thought,  in  the  one  case  as  in  the  other  we  conclude 
that  thought  has  no  limitations  beyond   those  it  makes  for 
itself." 

(4)  "  We  must  not  for  this  reason  believe  that  the  system  of 
reality  can  be  constructed  without  the  aid  of  experience.     To 
discover  the  rational  order  of  facts  (which  are  connected,  not 
simply  put  together)  time  is  needed,  because  time  is  an  element 
both  of  things  and  reason." 

(5)  "Nor  must  we  believe  that  any  individual  system  can  pass- 
ably reproduce  the  system   of  the  world.     Science   (universal 
science,  philosophy)  can,  however,  be  constructed  ;  but  the  con- 
structions we  attempt  are  only  illustrations  of  the  method  we 
propose,  and  this  method  itself  is  only  a  sketch  of  the  true  pro- 
cess.    It  would  be  rash  or  ingenuous  to  believe  oneself  capable 
of  remaking  the  world,  even  if  we  possessed  all  the  knowledge 
acquired  up  to  the  present  time  and  had  the  genius  of  Aristotle. 
It   remains,  however,  that  knowledge  is  systematic,  and  that 
we  can   attempt  to  understand  something  about  the  method 
required  by  knowledge  so  conceived."  (pp.  8-10). 

Let  us  note. 

(<t)  Knowledge  consists  in  thought,  and  is  due  to  an  internal 


Thought  and  Reality  343 

labour  of  the  thinking  subject.  Thought,  then,  and  the  internal 
labour  of  the  subject  coincide.  This  labour,  by  its  very 
nature,  has  an  end,  or  results  in  the  construction  of  a  system. 
Knowledge  or  thought  has  a  limit  in  so  far  as  it  constitutes  a 
system  enclosed  in  itself.  The  existence  of  a  limit,  in  the  sense 
assigned,  does  not  imply  but  rather  excludes  the  existence  of 
any  element  whatever  extraneous  to  the  thought,  unattainable 
by  knowledge.  Thought  has  no  limits  except  those  it  makes 
for  itself — except  those  which  are  intrinsic  and  essential  to  it  as 
systematic  thought. 

(6)  Conversely,  the  internal  labour  of  the  thinking  subject 
can  never  be  completed  by  any  subject.  Let  a  subject  possess 
all  the  knowledge  hitherto  acquired,  and  let  him  have  con- 
nected them  in  a  system  which  seems  perfect  to  him.  He  will 
not  know  everything,  and  will  not  have  systematised  quite  com- 
pletely even  all  he  knows.  And  the  individual  differences 
between  man  and  man,  however  important,  count  for  little  in 
this  respect.1  "  Ein  derartiges  Streben  .  .  .  ist  cine  Sache  der 
Menschheit,  nicht  des  blossen  Individuums ;  von  dem,  was  der 
Einzelrie  daftir  vermag,  lilsst  sich  kaum  goring  genug  clenken." 
The  knowledge  or  the  thought  (of  the  subject.  We  have  already 
said  that  knowledge  or  thought  is  an  internal  labour  of  the 
subject)  have  therefore  a  limit,  not  tixed,  in  an  fxteriud  reality 
which  can  never  be  known  or  thought  entirely. 

That  we  have  two  irreconcilable  concepts  about  the  limita- 
tions of  knowledge  is  evident.  Knowledge  has  a  limit  according 
to  (a.)  because  systematic,  or  because  enclosed  in  itself,  and  OTJ/J/ 
in  itself,  there  being  no  outside.  It  has  a  limit  according  to  (/<) 
precisely  because  there  is  an  outside  of  which  it  must  make 
itself  master,  and  of  which  it  can  never  fully  become  master. 
It  has  a  limit  in  so  far  as  it  never  encloses  itself. 

Let  us  compare  thinking  with  walking.  The  assertion  that 
reality  can  be  reduced  to  thought  would  bo  translated  thus. 
The  road  on  which  I  walk  exists  in  so  far  as  I  walk  on  it,  it  is  my 
walking  on  it.  In  this  case,  however,  it  is  nonsense  to  say  (what 
we  ought  nevertheless  to  say)  that,  however  far  I  walk.  1  always 
find  before  me  a  road  still  untraversed. 

Undoubtedly  knowledge  consists  in  the  "passing  of  the 
powers  of  the  subject  into  action"  (see  above):  "  Sollte  cine  .  .  . 

1   H.  Euekuii,  Gru/tdlin.  tin.  it.  Ltbcnaaiuchy.,  Leipzig,  I'.'OT,  p.  HJ. 


344  The  Great  Problems 

universale  Syntese  iiberhaupt  moglich  sein  .  .  .  wie  konnten 
wir  hotfen,  zu  ihr  vorzudringen,  wenn  sie  nicht  in  der  Tiefe 
unseres  Wesens  .  .  .  sttinde  ? " l 

Reason  decides  finally  and  without  appeal  on  everything. 
We  reject  the  absurd  as  absolutely  impossible.  This  proves 
that  reality  is  reasonable,  that  it  is  thinkable,  that  it  is  regulated 
by  the  laws  of  thought. 

It  proves  at  the  same  time  that  reality  is  implicit  in  the 
subject.  The  subject  knows  reality  by  means  of  reason.  It 
reconstructs  reality  (which  is  thinkable  or  can  be  reduced 
to  thinkables)  by  means  of  reason.  The  necessity  of  experience 
proves  nothing  to  the  contrary  (cf.  above,  prop.  4).  Now 
reason  belongs  to  the  rational  subject ;  it  is  a  constituent  of 
it,  and  implicit  in  it.  In  so  far  as  reason  is  implicit  hi  the 
subject,  reality,  which  can  be  reduced  to  thinkables,  is  implicit 
in  it  also.  But  it  does  not  follow  from  this  that  a  subject  can 
identify  reality  with  what  is  thought  by  it.  This  would  not 
only  be  in  opposition  to  the  well-known  fact  of  the  dependence 
of  each  subject  on  reality ;  it  would  also  be  contradictory.  In 
fact,  development  is  essential  to  the  actual  thought  of  the 
subject,  and  development  supposes  the  power  of  thinking  of 
elements  at  first  not  thought  of. 

Reality  is  implicit  in  the  subject  in  this  sense  that  it  is  with 
the  subject  in  a  relation  which  is  essential  to  the  subject. 
In  consequence  of  this  relation,  each  element  of  reality  can  be 
thought  explicitly  by  the  subject.  But  the  elements  of  reality 
are  not  all  (but  only  in  a  very  small  part)  thought  explicitly  by 
the  subject.  In  this  sense  reality  must  be  called  external 
to  the  subject — external,  that  is,  to  his  explicit  thought,  to 
his  consciousness. 

Understood  in  this  way,  externality  and  implicitness  do 
not  exclude  each  other.  What  the  subject  does  not  apprehend 
is  outside  the  subject  in  so  far  as  apprehending,  although  it  forms 
part  of  a  sphere  of  unconsciousness  which  is  an  essential  con- 
stituent of  the  subject,  which  is  also  a  condition  of  its  apprehen- 
sion. The  implicitness  stands  out  in  relief,  but  externality  also 
stands  out  in  relief.  To  know  signifies  "  etwas,  das  in  uns  steckt, 
zu  voller  Selbsttiitigkeit  zu  crweckcn/'  but  it  signifies  at  the 

1  Euckon,  op.  d  luc.  cit 


l^hought  and  Reality  345 

same  time  so  to  act  that  "  die  Wahrheit  der  Welt  auch  unsere 
VVahrheit  werde." l 

From  these  considerations  we  deduce  the  concept  of  reality 
which  we  have  developed  in  the  text,  which  we  can  con- 
veniently summarise  here. 

Reality  can  be  considered  as  a  sphere  with  the  subject  for 
centre.  And  it  is  essential  to  the  subject  to  be  such  a  centre 
—to  be,  as  Schuppe  says,  a  point  of  interference.  As  there  is 
more  than  one  subject,  the  structure  of  reality  is  polycentric. 
And  in  reference  to  each  subject  reality  is  divided  doubly 
into  two  parts. 

First,  the  part  peculiar  to  the  subject  and  the  part  common 
to  every  subject.  All  that  enters  the  peculiar  part,  only  that 
subject  can  apprehend  to  whom  the  part  itself  is  peculiar.  All 
that  enters  into  the  common  part  can  be  apprehended  by  any 
subject  whatever.  The  "can"  in  each  case  excludes  absolute 
impossibility,  but  does  not  imply  possibility  in  fact.  Certain 
facts  which  I  can  remember  I  shall  perhaps  never  remember, 
because  circumstances  will  not  make  me  remember  them.  The 
other  side  of  the  moon  is  visible,  but  the  movements  of  the 
moon  are  such  that  no  man  will  ever  see  it. 

Secondly,  the  part  which  the  subject  actually  apprehends, 
into  which  the  apprehension,  the  actual  thinking,  enters,  and 
the  parts  which  the  subject  does  not  actually  apprehend.  These 
two  parts  are  not  clearly  divided ;  wo  pass  from  clear  conscious- 
ness to  unconsciousness  by  degrees. 

In  each  of  these  two  parts  arc  included  elements  of  each  of 
the  two  noted  above.  I  am  actually  conscious  alike  of  elements 
which  arc  peculiar  to  me.  for  instance,  of  a  pain  of  mind,  as  of 
common  elements — say  of  a  sound.  Many  common  elements, 
(of  those,  1  mean,  which  from  their  nature  can  be  common),  or 
rather  almost  all.  are  outside  my  consciousness,  as  also  are  many 
elements  peculiar  to  me,  so  that  1  do  not  now  remember  all 
that  1  could  remember. 

Tltomjltt  is  a  somewhat  ambiguous  term  between  whose 
various  meanings  we  must  distinguish.  It  means  both  the 
actual  tl<inkin</  and  the  thing  thought. 

The  tliinkiu;/  is  a  n-nl  fact,  /n't'itl l-ir  to  a  particular  subject. 
and  the  subject  is  always  ro/t.sr  «<///*  of  it.  (Its  position  in  the 

1  Euckun,  up.  et  loc.  ctt. 


346  The  Great  Problems 

double  division  indicated  above  is  thus  determined.)  A  sub- 
ject does  not  always  think  (Des  Cartes  held  a  different  opinion, 
but  I  cannot  say  that  I  think  when  I  am  not  conscious  of  doing 
so),  nor  does  he  always  think  with  the  same  intensity  and  with 
the  same  clearness.  Thinking  is  a  variable  fact — a  fact  that 
cannot  exist  by  itself.  We  cannot  think  without  thinking 
something. 

That  which  we  think,  the  thing  thought,  can  be  common 
to  every  subject.  And  it  is  not  essential  to  it  to  be  thought  by 
a  certain  subject  or  by  any  particular  subject.  The  theorems  of 
geometry  and  the  physical  laws  are  valid  whether  I  know  them 
or  not.  They  were  valid  even  when  no  man  knew  them.  It  is 
not  essentially  a  thing  thought,  but  a  thinkable.  It  must  be 
understood  that  the  thinkable  when  it  is  thought  is  the  same 
as  when  it  is  not  thought.  "  I  think  a  thinkable  "  means  that 
my  personal  consciousness  is  joined  to  the  thinkable — the  think- 
able is  included  in  my  personal  consciousness. 

The  real,  we  have  said,  is  thinkable.  Now  a  thinkable 
ordinarily  signifies  a  universal.  The  real,  however,  is  concrete. 
And  the  concrete  implies  something  that  is  not  included  in  the 
universal.  Otherwise  there  would  not  be  the  universals 
"  concreteness,  "  "  singularity  of  the  fact,  "  "  variability. "  But 
concrete  objects  have  characteristics,  with  relations  between 
them,  and  vary  according  to  certain  laws.  Laws,  relations,  and 
characteristics  are  universal  elements  of  concrete  objects — 
elements  without  which  we  could  not  think  the  concrete 
objects  or  know  anything  of  reality.  As  to  the  concrete  object 
as  concrete,  let  us  remember  that  the  subject's  thinking  is  also 
a  concrete  thing.  The  subject  thinks ;  it  thinks  the  universal, 
but  its  thinking  the  universal  is  a  concrete  fact.  Hence  it 
follows  that  in  the  consciousness  of  the  subject  the  concrete 
object  (the  living  reality  of  the  subject)  and  the  universal 
constitute  a  whole  which  is  truly  one.  Therefore  the  subject 
thinks,  not  a  simple  abstraction,  but  reality — reality  in  which, 
though  not  exactly  in  the  same  way,  the  concrete  object  and 
the  universal  constitute  a  whole  which  is  truly  one. 

With  regard  to  concrete  objects,  a  sentence  of  M.  Hamelin's 
should  be  noted.  It  follows  proposition  4  quoted  above. 
"Experimental  knowledge  has  a  field  of  its  own  if  there  is 
contingency  in  the  world."  That  there  is  contingency  (that  it 


Thought  and  Reality  347 

exists  necessarily,  supposing  Being  to  have  concrete  objects 
for  its  sole  determination)  we  seem  to  have  proved  in  the  text. 
A  world  in  which  all  was  necessary  would  be  out  of  time,  as 
geometry  is  out  of  time — facts  ivmdd  twt  occur  in  it.  Not  that 
every  fact  is  contingent.  Facts  happen  in  a  whole  which  is 
rationally  one — in  which,  that  is,  the  parts  are  essentially  inter- 
connected. This  relation  implies  the  impossibility  of  facts 
happening  independently  of  each  other.  Each  fact  is  rendered 
by  the  others  different  from  what  it  would  have  been  without 
them.  Therefore  in  part  facts  mutually  determine  each  other. 
There  is  a  determinate  happening,  logically  deducible  from 
already  existing  happening.  But  if  there  were  no  absolute 
commencements  there  would  be  no  already  existing  happening. 
If  there  were  no  contingency,  there  would  be  no  determinism  of 
happening  either.  Only  timeless  logicality  would  remain. 

Absolute  commencement  (variations  which  cannot  be 
deduced  entirely  from  others)  are  alogical  but  not  illogical. 
And  the  subject  has  consciousness  of  them,  as  it  is  itself  a 
principle  of  absolute  beginnings.  It  has  consciousness  of  them 
as  a  thinker,  because  its  thinking  is  inseparable  from  the 
expression  of  its  spontaneity,  being  rather  the  consciousness 
that  the  spontaneity  obtains  of  itself  by  expressing  itself. 
Hence  the  necessity  of  admitting  contingency  docs  not  exclude 
the  thinkability  of  the  real  any  more  than  the  necessity  implied 
in  it  of  recurring  to  experience,  or  at  least  to  that  internal 
experience  in  which  thinking  consists. 

Taking  into  account  these  considerations,  from  which  it- 
results  how  ami  in  what  sense  particular  things  are  thinkable, 
we  must  say  that  reality  is  composed  of  thinkables  alone. 
Conversely,  thinkables  are  ?vW///  thinkable,  or  there  are  no 
thinkables  which  are  not  elements  of  reality  in  some  way.  We 
are  not,  however,  to  believe  that  thinkables  are  all  of  one  sort 
and  have  all  the  same  importance.  We  will  abstract  from 
particular  objects. 

There  are  thinkables  which  the  subject  find*  or  </<.sror<'r.s, 
but  does  not  construct.  Ho  draws  them  from  himself,  but  only 
in  so  far  as  reality  is  wholly  implicit  in  the  subject.  These 
thinkables  are  independent  of  the  existence  of  subjects,  except 
in  so  far  as  subjects  or  embryos  of  subjects  (centres  of  interfer- 
ence and  spontaneity,  monads)  are  essential  to  reality. 


348  The  Great  Problems 

They  can  be  subdivided  into  two  sub-classes.  Some  are  abso- 
lutely universal,  and  therefore  also  necessary,  non-negligible 
laws  of  every  happening,  and  hence  of  our  thinking  also.  If  we 
succeed  in  rendering  some  of  these  thinkables  explicit  to  our- 
selves, not  mingling  others  with  them,  we  have  in  this  all  that 
is  needed  to  trace  some  fundamental  lines,  few  but  secure,  of  a 
philosophy.  New  discoveries  hi  this  field  will  permit  us  to  add 
new  lines  to  our  design,  to  form  a  gradually  less  inadequate 
concept  of  the  world  considered  in  its  unity.  The  concept  will 
never  be  fully  adequate,  but  one  of  its  elements  once  discovered 
is  discovered  once  and  for  all.  We  can  go  forward  indefinitely, 
but  if  we  have  not  equivocated  on  the  nature  of  the  elements 
discovered,  we  shall  never  be  compelled  to  turn  back  and  begin 
afresh. 

Others  are  transitory  characteristics  of  a  part  of  reality, 
especially  of  that  which  touches  us  most  nearly,  or  it  is  not 
clear  that  they  are  anything  else :  for  instance,  the  configuration 
of  the  solar  system.  Their  discovery  has  no  essential  philoso- 
phical importance.  It  may  contribute  to  philosophy  effica- 
ciously but  indirectly,  in  so  far  as  it  constitutes  an  increase  of 
culture.  It  is  an  affair  of  science  in  the  usual  sense  of  the  word- 
On  these  thinkables  we  need  not  delay  now. 

But  there  are  also  strictly  human  thinkables.  They  are  so 
called,  not  because  it  is  essential  to  them  to  be  actually  thought 
by  any  man,  for  this  is  not  true ;  nor  because  they  are  think- 
able by  man,  implicit  in  man,  for  there  are  no  thinkables  which 
lack  this  property ;  but  because  they  are  constructions,  real  or 
possible,  of  human  thinking.  And  they  would  be  reduced  to 
nothing  if  there  were  no  men,  or,  more  generally,  if  there  were 
no  subjects  capable,  like  man.  of  discursive  thinking,  of  a 
knowledge  always  limited  in  quantity  and  always  increasable,  if 
there  were  no  single  units  of  conscious  activity  in  which  reality, 
which  is  implicit  in  them,  succeeds  in  time,  by  means  of  the 
activity  which  it  is  constantly  expressing  in  rendering  itself 
conscious. 

Constructions  of  human  thinking,  we  said.  Perhaps  a  few 
words  of  explanation  will  do  no  harm.  One  who  thinks  is 
always  n  man,  not  the  man.  Each  one  is  a  distinct  spontaneity 
:md  has  a  purposefulness  of  his  own.  Hence  the  construction 
of  one  will  be  different  from  that  of  another.  But  the  differences 


Thought  and  Reality  349 

(between  men,  and  hence  between  the  respective  constructions) 
do  not  exclude  similarities.  All  men  of  the  same  race,  who  live 
in  the  same  environment,  who  have  had  the  same  history,  and 
(more  or  less)  the  same  education,  will  make  very  similar  con- 
structions, in  spite  of  inevitable  individual  varieties.  For 
instance,  they  will  all  speak  the  same  language. 

And  men,  whatever  be  their  races,  environment,  history 
and  education,  have  more  points  of  resemblance  than  of  differ- 
ence. They  all  have  the  same  physiological  organisation  (they 
can  all  reproduce  themselves),  and  hence  also  the  same  physical 
structure,  and  they  all  live  on  the  same  planet.  Therefore 
their  constructions,  in  spite  of  the  differences  (of  individuals, 
race,  &c.),  present  a  common  basis,-  which  is  far  the  most 
important  part  of  each.  This  is  what  human  thinking  con- 
sists in. 

The  constructions  of  which  we  speak — the  "man-made 
formulas"  of  William  James,  who  has  the  fault  of  not  recognis- 
ing other  forms  of  knowledge — are  not  always  new  thinkables. 
They  are  sometimes  thinkables  of  the  first  class  already  indi- 
cated, of  which,  however,  a  new  use  is  made,  determined  by  the 
wish  and  by  the  more  or  less  well  founded  hope  of  attaining  in 
such  a  way  a  certain  cognitive  end. 

For  instance,  the  maritime  horizon  is  said  to  be  a  circle 
having  the  observer  for  centre.  But  who  can  be  certain  of  this  ? 
Observation  has  given  us  an  image ;  wo  ought  to  discover  the 
true,  concept  to  which  to  subordinate  it.  This  not  being  known, 
we  substitute  for  it  another,  chosen  from  among  those  which 
we  possess.  The  choice  is  not  made  at  random,  it  is  suggested 
to  us  (the  maritime  horizon  .vwwx  circular) ;  but  we  cannot  frrorc 
that  the  choice  is  good — it  is  a  voluntary  choice.  Similarity, 
the  circularity  of  the  maritime  horizon  which  has  resulted  to  us 
(up  to  a  certain  point,  us  we  have  said)  from  all  the  observations 
iiKi.df,  is  (ixnurned  for  all  the  observations  "imikable,  and  this  also 
is  always  a  constructing  in  the  same  way. 

Combining  the  two  aforesaid  observations  with  a  little 
geometry,  we  conclude  that  the  earth  must  be  a  sphere.  Hut 
is  it  really  a  sphered  Yes,  granted  that  all  the  maritime 
horizons  are  truly  circular. 

But  there  are  thought-processes  which  present  even  more 
clearly  the  character  of  true  constructions.  Their  elements  are 


350  The  Great  Problems 

discovered  indeed,  but  they  are  combined  by  us,  and  by  us  only, 
and  not  at  random,  nor  without  purpose,  but  because  we  have 
willed  to  combine  them.  Let  the  classes  of  the  naturalists,  the 
Pythagorean  tables,  logarithms,  &c.,  serve  as  examples.  Think- 
ables are  thus  obtained  which  are  themselves  certainly  elements 
of  reality,  but  of  that  reality  which  is  our  effective  thinking, 
the  principal  labour  performed  by  us  to  attain  to  knowledge. 
If  they  are  also  essential  to  thinking  or  to  human  thinking  (of 
which,  at  least  in  some  cases,  it  is  permissible  to  doubt),  in  any 
way  they  are  not  essential  to  the  thinkable.  They  serve  the 
purpose  for  which  they  are  constructed,  and  a  doctrine  of  human 
thinking  must  take  considerable  account  of  them. 

But  the  doctrine  of  the  real  (of  the  thinkable)  considered  in 
its  unity,  the  doctrine  of  the  laws,  attached  invariably  to 
happening  by  the  intrinsic  organisation  of  being — philosophy — 
could  not  be  founded  on  them,  although  it  may  make  use  of 
them  as  a  secondary  aid :  as  what  is  there  from  which  philosophy 
cannot  draw  profit  ? 

Above  all,  we  must  take  care  not  to  attribute  to  any  of 
these  ''man-made  formulas"  the  value  of  those  absolutely 
universal  and  necessary  thinkables  which  constitute  the  true  and 
only  field  of  philosophy.  We  should  be  going  altogether  astray. 
For  we  should  come  to  take  for  necessity  what  is  merely  habit, 
even  though  it  be  a  habit  from  which  man  cannot  free  himself 
without  giving  up  thinking,  as,  for  instance,  the  habit  of  speech. 

Being  and  not-being  are  two  thinkables.  This  is  almost 
intuitive.  In  any  case  let  us  add  a  word  or  two  of  explanation. 
A  being  signifies,  as  the  case  may  be,  a  concrete  object,  or  a 
characteristic  of  a  concrete  object,  or  a  relation,  or  a  law — an 
object,  in  short,  determined  with  greater  or  less  precision, 
among  the  elements  which  are  thought,  or  which  are  capable 
of  being  thought — a  thinkable.  Being  signifies  the  character- 
istic common  to  all  thinkables  without  exception,  or  that  by 
means  of  which  thinkables  are  not  broken  up  into  a  mass  of 
elements  absolutely  external  to  each  other. 

Here  we  must  note  that  such  an  absolute  externality  is  not 
thinkable.  In  fact,  the  elements  which  we  might  wish  to 
suppose  external  are,  notwithstanding  all,  called  elements  or 
beings.  The  common  characteristic  is  implicit  in  the  very 
formula  with  which  we  fancy  we  exclude  it.  Being  -in  necessary. 


Thought  and  Reality  351 

But  not-being  is  also  a  thinkable.  In  fact,  to  say  nothing 
—knowing  what  we  are  saying,  i.e.  thinking — is  not  the  same 
as  not  to  say  anything.  When  we  say,  for  instance,  "  In  this 
box  there  is  nothing,"  we  say  and  think  something,  a  thinkable. 

We  have  recognised  that  we  cannot  reasonably  speak  of  an 
unthinkable  reality,  that  reality  is  composed  only  of  thinkable, 
and  thinkables  are  all  elements  of  reality.  Since  being  and 
not-being  are  alike  thinkables,  it  seems  impossible  to  deny  that 
reality  is  composed  of  being  and  not-being — only  of  being  and 
not-being.  In  fact  between  being  and  not-being  there  is  con- 
tradictory opposition:  what  is  not  being  is  not-being,  and  what 
is  not  not-being  is  being. 

The  conception  at  which  we  thus  arrive  (it  is  of  venerable  an- 
tiquity) has  one  fault,  that  of  not  distinguishing  between  the 
human  thinkables  and  the  others.  Let  us  explain  ourselves  if  it  is 
still  needful.  The  thinkables  are  human,  without  exception, 
in  this  sense  that,  when  we  say  thinkable,  we  mean  thinkables 
also  by  man.  There  are,  however,  solely  human  thinkables,  and 
others  which  though  also  human  (as  we  have  said),  are  not  solely 
human.  There  are  factitious  thinkables,  "  man-made  formulas  " 
and  universal  necessary  thinkables,  let  us  say  non-factitious. 
( On  the  non-factitious  thinkables,  those  not  man-made,  and  yet 
neither  necessary  nor  absolutely  universal — we  noted  before 
that  there  are  some — we  must  not  delay.) 

Bring  is  a  universal  necessary  thinkable,  non-factitious. 
Not-beinc/,  on  the  other  hand,  is  a  solely  human  thinkable, 
factitious.  Not-being  either  signifies  the  negation  of  being,  or 
has  no  meaning.  Negation,  we  said,  but,  let  us  clearly  under- 
stand each  other — the  human  fact  of  negation.  For  both 
negation  and  affirmation  are  facts  which  presuppose  a  man, 
a  knowing  subject.  Of  these  facts  there  are  also  concepts,  but 
these  are  the  concepts  and  characteristics  of  the  facts,  and 
nothing  else.  Being  is  not  the  affirmation  or  the  concept  of 
the  affirmation,  but  tlmt  which  is  affirmed.  The  thinkable  is  a 
condition  of  its  affirmation,  and  renders  it  possible,  and  is  a  con- 
dition likewise  of  its  negation. 

Being,  as  a  non-factitious  thinkable,  is  necessarily  concluded 
both  from  the  affirmation  and  the  negation.  To  claim  that 
from  the  negation  we  can  infer  a  non-factitious  not-being  is  to 
equivocate.  For  the  negation  of  being  is  not  its  suppression. 


352  The  Great  Problems 

Neither  therefore  is  it  full  or  absolute,  not  even  as  a  negation. 
Who  has  ever  dreamed  of  absolutely  denying  being  or  of  ex- 
cluding it  altogether  from  any  order  of  thinkables  ?  These  are 
words  to  which  it  is  impossible  to  attribute  any  meaning. 

I  say  "  In  this  box  there  is  nothing." — i.e.  while  I  expected 
to  find  a  body,  visible  tangible,  &c.,  I  have  been  deluded.  But 
in  the  box  there  is  space,  if  nothing  else.  Still  my  delusion, 
my  very  negation,  is  certainly  something.  I  see  my  friend  in 
a  brown  study,  and  I  ask  him  "What  are  you  thinking  of?" 
He  starts,  and  answers  "  Nothing."  His  consciousness  was  empty 
like  the  box,  and  in  the  same  sense.  Not  that  there  was  in- 
cluded in  it  the  thinkable  not-being,  but  there  was  not  included 
in  it  one  of  those  thiukables  which  can  be  expressed.  My  friend 
was  not  thinking.  And  he  who  thinks  (as  I,  the  writer,  do  at 
this  moment)  that  factitious  thinkable  which  is  the  meaning  of 
not-being,  thinks  a  thinkable — that  is  to  say,  a  being. 

The  not-being,  of  which  we  may  speak  knowing  what  we 
say,  is  a  thinkable  or  a  being.  Therefore  it  is  not  the  opposite 
of  the  indeterminate  being.  With  not-being  we  exclude,  not 
being,  but  some  determinate  form  of  being.  The  lack  of  one 
determinate  form  always  implies  the  reality  of  another  deter- 
minate form.  Empty  space  is  occupiable. 

Indeterminate  being  has  no  opposite.  The  subject  is  a 
being,  but  particular.  It  implies  reality  in  itself,  but  only 
succeeds  in  rendering  it  explicit  to  itself  by  successive  steps  and 
partially.  Therefore  the  subject  denies,  while  being  has  only 
positive  determinations. 

The  subject  contradicts  itself  also,  but  its  self-contradiction  is 
a  consequence  of  its  not  being  fully  conscious  of  itself  and  of  its 
relations  with  the  universal  being.  This  does  not  admit  of 
contradiction,  but  only  of  contrasts  ( i.e.  a  partial  mutual  deter- 
mination) between  the  spontaneities  which  it  includes — con- 
trasts which  in  the  individual  incomplete  consciousness  of  the 
spontaneous  activities  take  for  the  moment  the  form  of  con- 
tradiction. 

The  "  simplest  law  of  things  "  is  not  reducible  therefore  to  the 
trinomial  thesis,  antithesis,  and  synthesis.  The  true  law  lies 
in  tht:  intrinsic  requirement  that  being  cannot  be  indeterminate. 
It  is  also  simpler,  and  hence,  in  compensation,  less  rich  in  con- 
tent, but  the  greater  richness  of  the  other  formula  is  illusory. 


Thought  and  Reality  353 

In  having  put  in  evidence  what  can  truly  be  called  "  the 
simplest  law  of  things  "  we  must  not  fancy  we  have  done  any- 
thing great.  We  have  made  a  first  step,  or,  more  exactly,  we 
have  indicated  the  value  of  a  first  step  which  another1  had 
already  made.  Nothing  more,  but  (and  we  must  not  forget  it) 
nothing  less. 

1  This  step  was  mado  by  Rosmini.  With  this  writer  I  shall  mention 
here  with  gratitude  two  others,  Bonatelli  and  Maschi,  each  of  whom  will  cer- 
tainly have  recognised  his  influence  on  my  thought.  Why  I  limit  myself  to 
such  fugitive  and  incomplete  mention,  I  have  already  stated  in  Appendix  I. 


APPENDIX  VII 
IMMANENCE  AND  TRANSCENDENCE 

Two  bodies,  e.g.  two  billiard  balls,  move  independently  of  each 
other.  It  happens  that  they  collide.  In  consequence  of  the 
impact  the  two  motions  will  be  modified.  But  the  modification 
is  due  to  a  cause  which  is  accidental  and  external  with 
respect  to  each  of  the  two  bodies  under  consideration.  Generalis- 
ing, we  succeed  in  conceiving  the  universe  as  an  aggregate  of 
elements,  devoid  of  essential  mutual  relations  and  only  con- 
nected accidentally  by  actions  which  are  exercised  on  each  ab 
extra  by  the  other. 

This  conception,  called  mechanical  because  suggested  by  a 
superficial  consideration  of  the  mechanical  facts,  is  irreconcilable 
with  the  purposefulness  of  life  and  with  the  rationality  of  the 
physical  laws.  The  distinct  things  into  which  the  world  is 
reduced  are  constituted  in  a  system,  in  a  whole  which  is  truly 
one,  by  a  principle  of  activity  which  is  rational,  and  at  least  up 
to  a  certain  point  teleological. 

The  principle  is  divine.  In  other  words,  all  that  we  recog- 
nise as  true,  beautiful,  and  good,  all  that  we  admire  with- 
out and  which  ennobles  us  within,  is  due  to  the  said  principle. 
Without  it  the  world  would  be  reduced  to  a  valueless  chaos,  or 
rather  would  not  exist.  The  false,  the  ugly,  the  evil,  in  so  far 
as  they  are  not  essential  to  the  harmony  of  the  whole,  are  due 
to  the  distinct  individual  activities,  each  of  which,  though 
subordinated  to  the  principle,  is  yet  to  a  certain  extent  inde- 
pendent in  its  own  limited  sphere. 

The  principle  is,  on  the  other  hand,  intrinsic  in  the  world. 
To  recognise  this  principle  is,  in  fact,  to  recognise  that  the  world 
cannot  be  conceived  mechanically  or  chaotically.  It  is  to  recog- 
nise the  world  as  arranged — to  recognise,  that  is,  that  in  the 
world  there  is  an  order.  Consequently  the  divine  is  intrinsic  in 
the  world — God  is  immanent  in  the  world. 

According  to  a  doctrine  which  is  traditional  in  Christianity, 


Immanence  and  Transcendence         355 

and  which  has  never  been  abandoned  by  the  Catholic  Church, 
there  exists,  besides  the  sensible  world,  a  personal  God,  who 
created  the  world  in  time,  and  who  is  absolutely  distinct  from  it. 
It  is  the  doctrine  of  transcendence.  The  world  exists  by 
the  divine  will,  and  hence  cannot  be  separated  from  God. 
But  the  divine  will  by  which  the  earth  exists  is  free.  God 
had  the  power  of  leaving  the  world  uncreated ;  He  could  also 
destroy  it.  The  existence  of  the  world  is,  then,  by  no  means 
essential  to  the  existence  of  God ;  the  existence  of  God  does  not 
imply  that  of  the  world,  and  cannot  be  reduced  to  it.  In  this 
sense  God  is  transcendent  with  respect  to  the  world — He 
is  distinct  from  it.  And  in  the  same  sense  He  is  transcendent 
with  respect  to  us.  The  aptitude  for  knowing,  with  which  we 
are  endowed,  is  also  itself  created  as  the  world  is  created.  It 
does  not  consist  in  there  being  included  in  the  distinct  con- 
sciousness of  each  one  of  us  a  (rational)  element  which  is 
numerically  the  same  both  in  each  of  us  and  in  God. 

Can  the  doctrine  of  transcendence  (and  hence  the  religion 
which  is  inseparable  from  it)  still  be  defended  when  once  it  is 
recognised,  as  it  cannot  fail  to  be  recognised,  that  order  and 
rationality  are  immanent  in  the  world  ?  Many  think  not,  but 
the  new  scholastics  say  Yes,  and  maintain  it  with  arguments 
which  in  substance  had  already  been  put  forward  by  the 
ancient  scholastics,  but  which  by  the  new  are  applied  with 
undeniable  learning  and  acumen  to  the  present  conditions  of 
the  controversy. 

Let  us  examine  these  arguments  briefly,  without  prejudice 
and  with  the  sole  end  of  acquiring  clear  concepts  on  the  subject. 
"  Verum  invenire  volumus,  non  tanquam  adversarium  aliqueiii 
convincere ;  ergo  ita  qiucramus,  quasi  omnia  incerta  sint."1 

Whence  comes  that  principle  of  ordered  activity  which  we 
have  recognised  as  intrinsic  in  the  world  ?  "  Ici,  il  faut 
repondre :  1'agnostieisme  ne  pent  eternellement  abriter  son 
silence  systematique  dans  le  mystere  des  causes"2  It  is  quite 
true  that  agnostics  have  not  the  slightest  right  to  attack 

1  I  have  made  a  mixture  of  Cicero  and  St.  Augustine  which  seems  to 
express  my  purpose  clt-arly.  If  any  one  has  not  understood  mi',  or  if  any 
ono  will  not,  I  must  have  patience. 

1  Ed.  Thamiry,  Leu  deux  A  special' Immanence,  Paris,  1908,  p.  xii  ;  pp.  v-xx 
contain  a  prefatory  letter  by  Mgr.  Baunard. 


356  The  Great  Problems 

religion  in  the  name  of  their  doctrine  (to  say  nothing  of  its 
absurdity). 

Let  the  impossibility  of  conceiving  the  beginning  of  hap- 
pening, about  which  we  will  say  more  presently,  be  considered 
proved.  As  it  is  admitted  that  all  that  exists  is  essentially 
conceivable,  we  can  deduce  the  impossibility  of  happening  ever 
having  begun.  The  beginning,  if  there  had  been  one,  would  be 
conceivable. 

But  on  the  agnostic  hypothesis,  that  impossibility  would 
only  represent  an  incapacity  of  ours.  And  if  we  are  not  capable 
of  knowing  or  understanding,  we  ought  to  keep  our  mouths 
shut,  and  neither  assert  nor  deny.  An  envelope  left  by  so  and 
so  when  dying  is  burnt  before  being  opened.  We  cannot  know 
if  it  contained  a  will.  But  have  we  any  right  to  infer  from  this 
impossibility  that  it  did  not  contain  one  ? 

But  to  continue.  The  monistic  hypothesis  of  immanence  is 
not  satisfactory,  either.  In  fact  (1)  "elle  conduit  a  1'impossible 
conception  d'un  monde  que  se  serait  fait  lui-meme,  et  qui  en 
definitive  serait  un  effet  sans  cause."  *  (2)  Moreover,  it  implies 
a  petitio  principii :  to  refer,  in  order  to  explain  how  the  world 
has  it  causes  in  itself,  "  a  1'hypothese  d'un  dynamisme  im- 
manent," 2  is  to  explain  idem  per  idem. 

The  objections  referred  to  have  a  problematic  value.  The 
Immanentist  says :  The  cause  of  the  present  facts  is  in  past 
facts,  and  so  ad  infinitum.  This  is  not  to  identify  the  cause 
with  the  effect,  or  to  suppose  an  effect  without  a  cause.  It  is  to 
admit  that  the  same  chain  of  facts,  which  we  see  taking  place 
now,  has  ahvays  taken  place.  In  this  doctrine  the  universe  as 
a  whole  has  no  cause.  But  it  is  not  considered  as  an  effect 
either.  The  opposed  petitio  principii  is  illusory.  Rational 
necessity,  recognised  by  all  (even  the  theists)  as  implicit  in 
happening,  neither  requires  nor  admits  of  "  explanation."  The 
imrnanentist,  recognising  it  as  implicit  in  the  universe,  for- 
mulates no  hypothesis.  That  of  the  theists,  on  the  other 
hand,  is  the  hypothesis  which  needs  proof. 

Much  more  serious  is  the  objection  formulated  by  Renouvier. 
Immanentism  implies  an  infinity  of  past  facts.  But  unless  we 
are  content  to  admit  with  Renouvier  that  God  has  Himself  had 
a  beginning,  the  same  difficulty  will  bo  presented  in  another 

1  Op.  cit,,  p.  ix.  "  Op.  cit.,  p.  xii. 


Immanence  and  Transcendence         357 

form.  I  do  not  represent  to  myself  the  divine  eternity,  but  I 
am  far  from  believing  it  therefore  absurd.  But  if  at  a  certain 
period  (n  years  ago)  happening  begins  and  hence  time  also,  I 
can  no  longer  understand  how  that  point  can  possibly  not  mark 
a  before  and  an  after  in  the  divine  existence  also,  which  so 
becomes  conceived  according  to  the  category  of  time.  In  short, 
time  which  has  a  beginning  is  a  contradictory  formula.  The 
contradiction,  being  intrinsic,  does  not  vanish  even  if  we  sup- 
pose the  category  of  time  not  applicable  to  God.  (Besides,  do  we 
not  apply  it  to  Him  when  we  say  that  God  has  created  in 
time  ?)  And  we  pass  over  the  difficulties,  to  which  we  shall 
refer  later,  which  arise  from  supposing  anything  outside  the 
categories. 

The  principle  of  ordered  activity,  immanent  or  intrinsic  in 
the  world,  is  reason — say  the  Immanentists  or  Monists  or  Pan- 
theists— and  therefore  it  is  nonsense  for  us  to  give  a  reason  for 
it.  As  the  theists  do  not  admit  that  we  should  ask  a  reason 
for  the  existence  of  God — "  Deus  ultima  ratio  rerum " — they 
ought  to  show  that  what  was  true  of  God  was  not  true  of  the 
said  principle.  This  they  have  not  done. 

Passing  over  this  difficulty,  and  admitting  that  we  ought  to 
give  a  reason  for  the  principle,  I  recognise  that  it  is  impossible 
to  do  so  in  any  other  way  "  qu'en  superposant  &,  la  serie  de 
toutes  les  causes  secondes  une  cause  premiere;  cause  tran- 
scendente,  souveraine,  intelligente  et  libre." 

"  Nous  etendrons  ...  5,  la  nature  cette  primordiale  et 
constante  vertu  de  riinnianence,  mais  de  I'immanence  reeue, 
que  nous  appellerons  immanence  relative,  reservant  le  nom 
d' immanence  absolue  a  I'unique  et  eternelle  source  de  la  vie 
universelle,  qui  est  le  sein  de  Dieu.  Telle  est  la  distinction 
fondamentale,  ou  git  la  solution  de  la  capitale  question  a 
laquelle  sont  suspendues  nos  croyances  comme  nos  des- 
tinees."  1 

Let  us  not  argue  too  subtly  on  the  distinction  between  the 
two  immanences,  where  Mgr.  Baunard  does  not  seem  to  me  to 
give  the  author's  thought.  Contrary  to  the  pantheists,  who  do 
not  admit  any  God  except  the  principle  recorded  as  immanent 
in  the  world,  the  author  maintains  that  the  principle  is  certainly 
immanent  in  the  world,  but  that  this  principle  is  not  God,  and 

1  Op.  dt.,  p.  181. 


358  The  Great  Problems 

is,  instead,  a  divine  creation.  The  doctrine  (lacking  the  pre- 
liminary proof  of  which  we  have  made  mention)  is  hypothetical, 
but  in  the  order  of  physical  nature  it  represents  a  hypothesis 
which  might  be  accepted.  Let  us  see  if  the  same  can  be  said 
in  reference  to  the  human  mind. 

The  author  considers  Rosmini's  doctrine  that  "V intuition 
de  I'ttre  .  .  .  nous  revele  1'existence  en  nous  d'un  element 
divin  au  sens  propre  de  ce  mot  "  a  proof  "  d'orgueil  intellectuel."1 
We  need  not  notice  the  pride  and  the  other  abusive  words.  We 
are  here  trying  to  understand  something  of  a  difficult  problem. 
We  may  make  mistakes.  Even  he  who  writes  to  maintain  the 
Church's  doctrine  may  err  (Rosmini  himself  would  be  an 
example),  and  the  error  may  be  due  to  the  fault  of  the  man 
who  commits  it,  but  no  equally  fallible  man  has  a  right  to 
blame  him  for  it. 

Let  us  come  to  the  true  knot  of  the  question.  I  know 
a  reality  distinct  from  myself.  Under  what  condition  do  I 
know  it  ? 

I  know  that  of  which  I  am  conscious,  that  which  is  in- 
cluded in  the  unity  of  my  consciousness.  And  a  thing  which  I 
know  is  by  that  very  fact  included  in  the  unity  of  my  con- 
sciousness— I  am  conscious  of  it.  The  words  with  which  it  is 
wished  to  express  a  different  doctrine  have  not  and  cannot  have 
a  meaning.  There  are  a  subject  S  and  a  thing  X.  (For  the 
present  argument  it  matters  not  whether  X  is  real  or  mental.) 
Suppose  S  has  no  consciousness  of  X,  but  has  of  an  element  A 
different  from  X,  then  S  does  'not  know  X  but  only  knows  A. 
Will  you  say  that,  thanks  to  the  relation  between  X  and  A,  S, 
knowing  A,  can  attain  somehow  to  knowing  X  ?  No  doubt ;  but 
if  S  somehow  succeeds  in  knowing  X,  X  will  be  somehow  in  S's 
consciousness,  and  it  will  not  be  true  that  only  A  is  there. 

Let  us  not  equivocate.  That  by  making  use  of  one  piece 
of  knowledge  I  may  gain  another  is  true.  But  this  does  not 
mean  that  my  knowledge  of  one  thing  constitutes  my  knowledge 
of  another  thing.  I  see  the  facade  of  a  building,  and  I  conclude 
that  the  building  is  a  church.  From  the  knowledge  of  one 
characteristic  I  have  inferred  the  knowledge  of  some  other 
characteristic.  This  other  characteristic,  although  not  sensibly 
perceived,  is  also  in  my  consciousness  just  as  the  perceived 

1  Op.  cit.t  p.  181. 


Immanence  and  Transcendence         359 

characteristic  is.  Otherwise  I  should  not  know  that  that  is  the 
facade  of  a  church.1 

Hence,  either  a  divine  element  succeeds  in  including  itself 
in  the  subject's  consciousness,  so  that  the  element  as  it  is  in  the 
subject's  consciousness  is  "  divin  au  sens  propre  de  ce  mot," 
numerically  one,  both  in  God  and  in  the  consciousness  of  that 
particular  subject,  or  else  that  particular  subject  will  know 
nothing  of  God. 

I  do  not  wish  to  defend  here  Rosmini's  intuitionism.  I 
admit,  without  inquiring  if  it  be  true,  that  man  attains  to 
God  by  means  of  the  creatures. 

What  is  the  meaning  of  attaining  to  God  by  means  of  the 
creatures,  except  the  discovery  of  God  in  the  creatures  ?  Now 
I  ask — Can  a  thing  be  discovered  where  it  is  not  ?  If  God 
is  discovered  in  the  creatures,  then  He  will  be  implicit  in 
the  creatures,  He  will  be  immanent  in  the  universe.  The 
principle  of  order  immanent  (according  to  the  author)  in  the 
universe  is  God.  And  if,  after  that,  such  a  principle  is  not 
"divin  au  sens  propre  de  ce  mot,"  God  is  nothing  but  an 
arbitrary  hypothesis. 

Tell  me  that  the  divine,  recognised  by  us  in  the  world, 
implies  by  its  intrinsic  necessity  a  complement,  which  is  not 
and  cannot  be  contained  in  the  world,  and  we  can  understand 
each  other.  God  is  immanent  in  the  world,  but  not  only  so. 
The  proposition  has  a  meaning,  and  may  be  true. 

So,  for  instance,  Titius,  with  whom  I  am  speaking,  is  doubtless 
•in  me.  In  fact,  his  outward  form,  his  colour,  the  sound  of  his 
words  and  their  meaning  (that  is,  Titius's  thought)  are  included 
in  my  consciousness.  These  elements  of  Titius,  which  are  in 
me,  are  and  could  not  help  being  supplemented  by  others  which 
are  not  in  me  (by  feelings,  for  instance),  with  which  they  form 
a  unity  of  consciousness.  But  if  the  elements,  which  I  named 
first,  which  are  included  in  my  consciousness,  were  not  Titius's 
—were  not  the  name-  in  Titius  and  in  mo — the  existence  of  those 
other  elements  and  of  Titius  himself  would  be  arbitrary  hypo- 
theses. 

Besides  being  immanent  in  the  world  (and  hence  also  in  me 
as  part  of  the  world)  as  a  principle  of  order,  God  is  immanent 
in  me  as  a  principle  of  knowledge.  That  there  is  a  principle  of 

1   Sou  further,  Appendix  IV. 


360  The  Great  Problems 

knowledge  immanent  in  me,  and  that  it  is  identical  with  the 
principle  of  order  immanent  in  the  world,  is  undeniable.  I  am 
capable  of  knowing  necessary  a  priori  principles  which  have 
the  value  of  laws  for  reality.  The  principle  of  knowledge,  they 
say,  is  created ;  it  is  not  "  divin  au  sens  propre  de  ce  mot." 
Therefore  God  could  have  left  it  uncreated  or  created  it  other- 
wise (as  Des  Cartes  believed);  or  else  knowledge,  which  is 
based  on  that  principle,  is  only  hypothetically  or  relatively 
necessary — has  no  true  necessity.  Man  has  not  in  himself  a 
principle  of  necessary  truth.  How  will  it  be  possible  for  him, 
then,  to  arrive  at  necessarily  true  conclusions  ?  How  will  he  be 
able  by  means  of  that  principle  to  rise  to  God  ? 

The  hypothesis  that  God  exists,  that  He  has  created  distinct 
human  souls,  and  that  to  illumine  these  souls,  He  has  created 
a  principle  of  knowledge  common  to  all  (of  the  common  nature 
of  the  principle  there  can  be  no  doubt)  is  perhaps  intelligible. 
But  I  make  no  question  of  its  intelligibility.  I  ask,  "  How  do 
you  know  the  hypothesis  is  true  ? "  If  the  principle  is  not 
"  divin  au  sens  propre  de  ce  mot,"  and  the  immanence  of  the 
principle  in  us  is  not  the  immanence  of  God  in  us,  we  shall 
never  arrive  at  God  except  by  a  paralogism. 

The  identity  pointed  out  between  the  two  principles,  of  order 
and  cognition,  respectively  immanent  in  the  world  and  in  us — 
joined  with  the  hypothesis  that  they  are  created,  or  with 
the  express  recognition  of  their  being  devoid  of  intrinsic  and 
absolute  necessity,  renders  the  doctrine  of  pure  empiricism 
absolutely  irrefutable,  viz.  that  the  world  is  a  jumble  of  facts, 
and  that  our  cognition  is  an  impression  which  the  facts  produce 
on  us  ;  it  renders  atheism  irrefutable. 

All  that  we  know,  we  know  by  means  of  the  categories.  The 
categories  are  evidently  ours,  for  we  use  them  and  predicate 
them.  A  cognition  which  does  not  imply  them  is  impossible  to 
us.  We  want  to  know  whether  they  are  ours  only,  and  in 
particular,  here,  whether  they  are  created  or  (which  in  substance 
comes  to  the  same  thing)  are  simple  expressions  or  forms  of  the 
activity  of  a  created  spirit  qua  created. 

God  exists.  To  be  true,  this  proposition  must  have  a  mean- 
ing. And  what  meaning  can  it  have  for  us  who  pronounce  it 
except  the  application  to  God  of  that  same  category  of  existence 
that  we  apply  in  every  other  case  ? 


Immanence  and  Transcendence         361 

A  colour,  a  stone,  a  rose,  a  butterfly,  and  I  do  not  exist  in 
the  same  way,  but  we  exist — just  as,  for  instance,  a  segment,  a 
surface,  and  a  volume  are  not  extended  in  the  same  way,  but 
are  extended  (spatially). 

To  exist,  said  of  the  colour  and  of  me,  has  different  meanings, 
which  have,  however,  something  in  common.  Said  of  God,  it 
will  have  a  different  meaning,  but  this  other  meaning,  though 
infinitely  other,  must,  so  far  as  existence  is  concerned,  imply 
the  identical  element  which  is  common  to  the  preceding. 

To  suppose  something  outside  every  category,  outside  even 
that  of  existence,  is  to  suppose  something  absolutely  unknow- 
able (or  rather  unthinkable,  which  is  nonsense,  for  supposing  is 
thinking).  For  religion  to  be  justified,  for  it  to  be  possible,  the 
existence  and  some  attributes  of  God  must  be  known.  This 
implies  that  the  categories  (I  am  not  speaking  of  these  par- 
ticular determinations  of  them)  are  applicable  to  God  also. 

We  arrive  at  the  same  conclusions  if  we  consider  the 
question  from  the  point  of  view  of  morality.  "  Malgre  le 
prestige  de  ses  formules,  la  morale  dite  scientifique — ne  pent 
fonder  un  code  de  devoirs,  car  irrationelle  dans  ses  principes, 
elle  est  encore  antiexperimentale  dans  ses  determinations  pra- 
tiques. Toute  loi  morale  exprime  une  obligation. . . .  Seulement, 
si  la  source  de  la  loi  est  immanente  a  1'homme,  si  je  suis — pour 
ma  part  d'humanite — legislateur,  je  suis  au  dessus  de  la  loi. 
Sans  doute,  je  puis  choisir  une  methode  de  vie  et  me  resoudre 
a  la  suivre ;  mais  je  puis  dans  les  cas  genants  la  modifier  au 
gre  de  mes  desirs :  il  n'y  a  done  h\  aucune  obligation  reelle."  ' 

That  the  moral  principle — identical  with  the  principle  of 
cognition,  as  this  is  identical  with  the  principle  of  order  in 
reality — is  immanent  in  man,  it  is  impossible  to  doubt.  I  can 
obey  a  precept  which  comes  to  me  from  without.  But  that  my 
obedience  may  be  a  really  moral  action,  I  must  recognise  the 
goodness  of  the  precept,  I  must  obey  the  precept  because  and 
in  so  far  as  it  is  good.  I  must  therefore  prior  to  the  precept 
(needless  to  say  we  are  speaking  of  logical  priority)  bo 
capable  of  such  recognition.  This  means  that  a  moral  principle 
must  be  intrinsic  and  immanent  in  me. 

Apart  from  this  principle,  the  obedience  could  only  be 
suggested  to  ine  by  my  interest.  Here  it  is  Avoll  to  note  how 

1  Up.  fit.,  p.  233. 


362  The  Great  Problems 

interest  also  presupposes  an  intrinsic,  immanent  principle. 
Someone  may  say  to  me,  "  Do  this,  or  I  will  break  my  stick 
over  your  back."  But  there  is  no  prescription  which  can  give 
me  the  aptitude  for  suffering  in  which  lies  the  value  of  the 
threat,  if  I  do  not  possess  it.  And  the  same  may  be  said  of 
the  aptitude  for  moral  valuation. 

Is  the  moral  principle,  which  is  certainly  immanent  in  us, 
"  divin  au  sens  propre  du  mot,"  or  created  ?  Let  us  suppose  it 
created.  Then  what  we  call  justice  is  such  a  fact,  just  as,  for 
instance,  Mont  Blanc  has  in  fact  a  certain  form ;  it  is  a  product 
of  the  creating  will,  not  an  element  of  the  divine  essence.  And 
in  consequence  God  is  not  just.  He  is  not  unjust  either.  The 
moral  categories  are  not  applicable  to  Him.  A  week  and  a 
tower  are  not  equal,  nor  is  one  greater  than  the  other — they 
cannot  be  compared.  Similarly,  God  and  man,  in  the  case 
supposed,  cannot  be  compared  morally.  Just  and  unjust  are 
significant  terms  with  respect  to  man,  but  devoid  of  meaning 
with  respect  to  God.  Can  a  God  to  whom  we  cannot  attribute 
justice  (and  the  same  may  be  said  of  perfection,  goodness,  &c.) 
be  the  God  of  religion  ? 

It  will  be  answered,  perhaps,  that  if  God  is  not  just  in  the 
human  sense,  He  is,  however,  just  in  an  infinitely  higher  sense, 
in  an  "eminent"  sense.  This  box  and  all  space  are  extended  ; 
space  is,  however,  infinitely  more  extended  than  the  box.'  We 
can  understand  that  divine  justice  is  infinitely  higher  than 
human — on  condition,  however,  that  between  human  and 
divine  justice  there  is  something  in  common,  that  the  one  is 
justice  like  the  other.  There  may  be  a  difference,  and  an  infinite 
difference,  between  the  manner  in  which  justice  is  possessed  by 
God  and  by  man — I  am  not  speaking  of  this.  I  ask  what 
meaning  do  you  attribute  to  the  term  justice  when  you  apply 
it  to  God  ?  Have  this  meaning  and  that  which  we  all  attribute 
to  the  same  term  when  we  apply  it  to  ourselves,  anything  in 
common — yes  or  no?  Yes?  Then  the  category  of  justice  is 
applicable  also  to  God.  and  the  moral  principle  is  not  created. 
No  ?  Then  God's  justice  has  nothing  of  justice  but  the  name. 

In  conclusion,  a  divine  principle,  uncreated  and  necessary, 
is  immanent  in  the  universe  and  in  us.  But  does  the  existence 
of  the  principle  imply  the  existence  of  the  universe  ?  Is  the 
principle  only  immanent  and  implicit  in  the  universe  ?  This  is 


Immanence  and  Transcendence         363 

the  problem  which  remains  to  be  studied,  which  hitherto  has 
not  been  studied  as  it  ought,  because  it  was  wrongly  believed 
that  the  doctrine  of  immanence  implied  the  negation  of  the 
(necessarily  transcendent)  personality  of  God. 

The  principle,  implicit  in  organised  nature  as  an  invariable 
law  of  transformation,  implicit  in  the  organisms  as  an  instinct 
which  realises  an  unforeseen  end,  becomes,  with  more  or  less 
clearness,  explicit  in  the  personal  consciousness  of  each  one  of 
us.  And  it  is  the  same  always  and  everywhere ;  it  is  reason,  at 
the  same  time  ours,  a  constituent  of  each  man,  and  universal. 

To  me  it  does  not  seem  possible  to  exclude,  on  the  basis  of 
the  knowledge  which  we  have  so  far  succeeded  in  gaining,  that 
the  principle  requires  and  logically  implies  a  personal  conscious- 
ness of  which  all  the  sensible  world  would  be  the  content  (just 
as  a  small  part  of  the  sensible  world  constitutes  the  content  of 
our  consciousness).  But  as  for  the  present  we  cannot  exclude 
this,  so  for  the  present  we  cannot  prove  it  either. 

We  find  ourselves  in  a  provisional  situation,  which  naturally 
will  not  be  permanent.  Unless  I  am  mistaken,  the  preceding 
discussions  which  present  the  problem  under  an  aspect  not 
absolutely  new  (I  may  mention  Hermann  Lotze),  but  not  yet 
studied  with  the  necessary  diligence,  indicate  clearly  the  way  to 
arrive  at  the  goal. 


INDEX 


ABSTRACTION,    114-7,   cf.    141,    256, 

314,  316 
Accident,  202,  206-7,  210,  235-6.     Cf. 

alto,  Atomism,  Spontaneity 
Action,  in  perception  and  feeling,  90-3 

—  and  unconsciousness,  93 

-  and  feeling,  96-9 

—  and  the  external  world,  101-4 

-  for  action's  sake,  149-50 

—  always  requires  effort,  164 
Activity,  228-9 

—  centres  of,  55-6,  64-7,  130,  et  at. 

—  spontaneous,  91 

—  fundamental  to  Bubject,  129 

—  and  perception,  94-6 

-  and  feeling,  96-9,  101-3, 129,  146- 

150 

-  and  values,  101, 107, 129-131, 140-3 
Actuality  and  Memory,  85-6.     See  alto 

Potential 

Affection,  153-4,  174 
Affirmation,  109,  276 
Agnosticism,  269,  rf.  267  177..  294-6 
A-logical,  see  Non-logical. 
Animal  consciousness,  46,  117-8,  127, 

152-6    159,  160, 163-6,  174,  178, 

241,  249,  263,  271 
Antinomy,  216 
Appearance  and  Reality,  cf.  205.  217, 

330.     Cf.  Being  and   its  deter 

minations 
Apperception,  ef.  117-8 

—  unity  of,  cf.  157 

—  Cf.  "Jiw  Self-consciouiness 
Ardigo,  289,  290,  294 
Aristotle,  146,  290 
Arithmetic,  191.  196-7,  198 
Associationism,  152 
Atheism,  268,  360 

Atomism,   182,  202-3,  cf.  also  185,  211, 

233 

Attention,  102-3,  113-5,  117 
Augustine,  St.,  355 


BAKUAKISM,  6,  u. 
Bannard,  355,  357 
Beginnings,  absolute,  28,  239,  347 
—  of  the  Universe,  52,  84 


Beginnings  of  organisms,  251 
Being.     Chapter  VII 
—  a  function  of  the  subject,  222-8, 
298 

—  a  system,  234 

—  and  activity,  228-9 

—  and  necessity,  235-240 

—  and  not  Being,  340  $qq. 

—  and  time,  245 

—  and  variation,  243-6 

—  rational  (7)235,  241 

—  has  it  other  determinations  than 

those  known  to  us  ?  231  577., 
257-8,  262,  267.  Cf.  alto  Trans- 
cendence 

Berkeley,  294,  295 

Body,  a  group  of  psychical  elements, 
33-7,  45  sqq.,  240,  248 

—  a  centre  of  variation,  55-7 

—  a  store-house  of  energies,  94,  130- 

1,  148,  151 

—  and  sense- perception,  56-63 

—  logical  interdependence  of  bodies 

in  space,  184-5,  187 

—  Bonatelli,  353 

—  Bruno,  Giordano,  220 


,  337 
Caius,  177-8,  226 

Categories,    289,  298,  329-330,   360-1, 
cf.  295 

-  Being,  298,  360 

-  Time,  357 

-  Moral  categories,  362 

—  See  alto  Formulation  of  laws 
Causal  connection,  197,  2OO-3,  208-9 

—  and  logical  relations,   180-8,   197, 

200,  240,  et  at. 
Cause,  2OO-202 

—  and  sense-perception,  40-6,  tf.  292 

-  and  value,  133-145 

—  "  First  cause,"  302 
;    Cells,  249 

Centre  of  activity,  55-6. 64-7, 21 7. 257-8 

-  its  origin,  64-5,  cf.  216.  251.  254 

—  and  theoretic  consciousness.  !>5-6, 

130 

—  and  spontaneity,  216-9,  235  sqq. 


366 


The   Great  Problems 


Centre  of  activity  and  Being,  232  sqq. 

—  individual  centres,  176-8 

—  infinite  centres  (?),  261 

—  cf.  7,  also  Accident 

—  64,   97,  128,   131,  135-6,    149-150, 

151,    159,    161,  173,     242,    281, 
334-5 
Christianity  and  the  Great  Problems, 

3,  11 
-  and  Humanism,  3,  9 

—  and  Materialism,  171 

—  and  Morality,  325-6,  334-5 
Church,  the  Catholic,  302-3,  355,  358 
Cicero,  355 

Civilisation,  modern,  165-6 
Cognition.    Chapter  IV 

—  the    consciousness  of   a  relation, 

104 

—  the  result  of  an  action,  110,  119 

—  the  intentional  reconstruction  of  a 

system  of  elements,  119-123 

—  the  fact  of,  107-8 

—  the  practical  function  of,  150 

—  the  problem  of,  105 

—  and    concrete    objects,    110-111, 

120-3,  cf.  227 

—  and  feeling,  161-2,  164, 174.     Also 

Intellectualism 

—  and     personality,    169-170.     Alto 

Self-consciousness 

—  and  truth,  106-7 

Coherence,  179-180.  See  also  Con- 
sistency 

Columbus,  314 

Common  Sense,  45,  47,  54,  272-3, 
etal. 

Comte,  294,  300  sqq. 

Concept  and  abstraction,  114-7 

—  and  concrete  objects,  120-21,  214, 

ct  al. 

—  and  generic  image,  70 

-  and  judgment,  124,  157,  197-8 

—  and   logical  non-independence  of 

things,  183-5 

—  and  symbols,  122 

—  Cf.  also,  230,  232 

Concrete  objects,  112,  119,209-211,  346 
=  Centres  of  activity  (7.1'.),  218 

—  and  Being,  232  sqq.,  258,  262,  267. 

Cf.  also  Transcendence 

—  and    cognition,     110-111,    120-3, 

cf.  227 

—  and  mathematics,  198 
Consciousness,  144,  156 

—  its    elements,    46,    137-140,    208, 

242,  246-7 

-  its    organisation,   100-103,    113-4. 

et  al. 

—  and  subconsciousness,  RO-1 

—  and  unconsciousness,  76-85 

—  self-consciousness,  126-8,  et  al. 


Consciousness,  theoretical,  and  value, 

135-144 

Consistency,  180,  285-6 
Construction  and  knowledge,  119-123, 

348-9 

Copernican  hypothesis,  13 
Copernican  revolution,  Kant's,  330 
Courage,  271,  278 
Criterion  of  value,  274-5 

—  Cf.  also  Ex  veritate 
Criticism  of  knowledge,  15  sqq. 

—  and  theory  of  knowledge,  20  tqq., 

cf.  296-7 
Culture,  2,  5-6 

—  its  development,  6-8 

—  and  religion,  9,  14-15,  cf.  22 


DANTE,  303 

Definition,  230-1 

Dependence    and    Independence,    181 

sqq.,  202  sqq.     Cf.  also  Unity. 
Des  Cartes,  300,  307-8,  346,  360 
Development  of  a  monad,  241-3,  264-5 

-  of  a  subject,  64,  101-3,  113-4 

-  of  a  person,  126-8,  159-160,  168 
—  Cf.  also,  130-1,  135,  148-150,  151 

De  Wulf ,  303 

Divine,  the,  268,  270,  335,  355,  362-3 

Duration,  194 


EGO,  106-7,  126-8.     See  also  I. 
Egoism,    174-6,    177.      Cf.   also  154-5, 

270-1 

Empiricism,  289,  300 
Enemy,  334  sqq. 
Energy,  200-202,  209-211.     Cf.  also  94, 

130-1,  148,  151 
Error,  125,  195,  275-6,  316-8 
Essc.  not  I'crcipi,  68 
Ethics,  322  ^77.     Cf.  also  Metaphysics 
Eucken,  343  .•577. 
Euclid,  186-7 
Eudaemonism,  271 
Evil,  333,  354.     .b'ce  also  Good 
Evolution,  251,  253,  260,  264-5 
Existence,  its  content,  23 

—  cannot  be  the  sole  characteristic 

(if  anything.  16 

—  extra-logical,  218-9 

—  Sec  also  Being 
Expectation,  104,  109-110,  160 
Experience,  collective,  10 

—  possible,  its  sphere,  15  377. 

—  organisation  of,  100-103 
Kx  veritate,  27-30,  271  477. 


FAILUKE,  170,  173,  221 
Faith,  302-3 


Index 


36? 


Fate,  2-3 

Feeling,  44-5,  89,  92 

-  and  activity,  96-9,  101-3,  146-9 

—  and  cognition,  7-10,  160-2,   164, 

174,  et  al. 
Feeling  and  memory,  70 

—  and  perception,  89-90,  143-6 

—  and  unconsciousness,  93 

-  and  value,  129, 140-3,  145,  163,  287 

—  simple  feelings,  149 
Finality.    See  Purposefulness 
Forms  of  thinking,  222  tqq.,  ef.  318 
Formulation    of   laws,    156.     Cf.    ttl»o 

Categories 
Fouillde,  326  tqq. 


GALILEO,  203,  243 

Geometries,  180,  186-7,  189-190,  198 

God,  267,  268,  270,  320-1,  338,  354  sqq. 

Cf.  also  Transcendence 
Good  and  evil,  131,  148,  170,  275,  277- 

8.     See  also  Values 


HAMELIN,  340  tqq. 
Happiness,  166-7,  271-3 
Hartmann,  296 
Hedonism,  cf.  97,  164,  270-1 
Hegel,  294 
Honesty,  170 
Hugueny,  325  tqq. 
Humanism,  3-5,  9 


I,  126-8,  157-160,  1(52-4,  166,  173,  107, 

263  sqq.     Sec  also  Personality 
Idealism,  294-6 

—  and  solipsism,  295-6 
Idee-force  de  la  bonte,  331  tqq. 
Idee-type,  315 

Identity  of  subject,  87 

Image,  objective,  31,  38,30  sqq.,  32,  et  al. 

—  subjective,  68,  70,  75 
Immanence,  Appendix    VII.     See   alto 

Transcendence 

Immortality,  1.  11,  254  sqq.,  cf.  271 
Independence  and  dependence,  181  sqq., 

202  sqq.     Cf.  a/ so  Unity 
Indeterminism,  91.  !<3,  15t>,  216-9,  23-1 

sqq.,  cf.  244,  250  tqq.,  287-8.     Cf. 

also  Spontaneity 
Individual,  176-8,  206.  257 

—  and  limitations  of  knowledge,  276 
Inference,  ef.  358-!* 

Instinct,  106,  <•/.  250 

Intellectualism,  rf.   25-7,    137,    141-3, 

169,  269,  274-6,  278-!»,  2!H> 
Intelligence,  165-8,  173,  rf.  250 

—  its  limitations.     Appendix  III 
Intuition,  167,  cf.  244,  314,  350 


JAMES,  William,  349 

Jesui,  27 

Judgment,  71-2,  88,  109-11,  126-6 

—  and  concept,  124 

—  and  causation,  197-8 

—  and  consistency,  125-6,  179-81 

—  and  self -consciousness,  157-8 

—  and  truth,  106-8 

-  and  value,  139,  161-2 


KANT,  295,  300,  329-30 
Knowledge,  21,  119-123,  222,  231 

—  and  the  known,  181 

-  and  reality,   48-9,  227-8,  Appen- 

dix VI 

—  and  spontaneity,  219 

—  and  truth,  Appendix  IV 

—  and  values,  25-6 

—  and  virtue,  170,  ef.  275-6,  278 

-  its  limitations,  12, 15  sqq.,  215,  276, 

Appendix  III 

—  positive,  10,  13-16,  23 

-  potential,  85-6 

—  criticism   and   theory  of,   15  sqq., 

cf.  185-6,  297-8 


LANGUAGE,  118, 121-2, 123-4,  142,  159, 

186,  212,  349 
Law,  physical,  105,  127,  198-200,  218, 

240,  244,  252,  290,  316-7 
—  moral,  361-2 
Laws  of  thought,  179-82,  344 
Leibniz,  291-3 
Life,  of  the  subject,  130-1,  151-3,  cf. 

251-2 

-  human  life,  266,  277 

Logical  relations,  and  causal  relations, 
180-2, 1X5,  188, 197,217-8,  234-5 

—  and  mathematics,  196-7 

—  and  space,  184-8 

-  and  things,  182-8 

-  and  time,  190-1 

Love  of  one's  enemies,  334  sqq. 
Lotze,  363 


MACH.  290,  2% 
Man,  1-3,  10,  277 
-  his  destiny,  253  .'717.,  260  177.,  272, 

279 
—  the  "plain  man,"  ef.  45,  47,  206, 

221-2 

Manliness,  271 
Maschi,  353 

Materialisation,  170,  254 
Matter,  216,  rf.  22'.',  290 
Mechanism,  147,  151-3,  156,  250-2, 

264,  286-7.  354 
Memory,  70  sqq.,  159 


368 


The  Great  Problems 


Memory  and  imagery,  68-70 

—  and  unconsciousness,  76-86 
Mental  phenomena  and  causal   rela- 
tions, 197-200 

Mercier,  308  sqq. 
Metaphysics,  286  sqq. 

—  and  ethics,  26-7,  Appendix  V 
Michael  Angelo,  314 

Monads,  239  sqq. ,  263-5 

—  their  development,  241-2 
Monadsjtheirprimary  differences,  242-3 

-  central  monad,  241,  249 
Morality,  322  sqq. 

—  and  metaphysics,  286  sqq.t  Appen- 

dix V 

Movement,  209-11 
Multiplicity,  205,  207,  211,  213  sqq.,  cf. 

176-8,  236-8,  256  sqq. 

NECESSITY,  and  spontaneity,  236  sqq. 

—  and  time,  239 

—  and  unity,  232 

—  See  alto  Purposefulness  and  Spon- 

taneity 

Nervous  system,  61-3,  141-2,  229 
Non  logical,  218-9,  235-6,  288,  311-2 
Not-being,  340-1,  350-2 

—  See  also  Being 
Number  and  counting,  196-7 

ONE,  the,  213  sqq.,  288 
Opinion,  9-11,  54,  180,  206  et  al. 
Organism,  248  sqq.,  262 

PAIN,  51-2,  88-90,  97-9 

—  its  negative  value,  146 

—  excessive  pain,  271-2 
"  Passionality,"  138 
Perceivables,  46  sqq.,  57,  69,  75,  101 

—  diffused,  54-6,  62-3 

—  and  percepts,  53 

—  and  the  subject,  63,  130 
Perception,   and    activity,   94-G,    129- 

131 

-  and  feeling,  80-90,  129-131 

—  See  also  Sense-perception. 
Permanence    of  values,   267   8717.,   335 

sqq.      Cf.    alto    Being    and    its 
determinations 
Person,  174,  242,  255,  264,  267 

—  and  value,  175-6,  209  sqq.,  274  sq. 

—  Cf.  also  Ex.  veritatc 
Personal  identity,  87 

—  and  immortality,  254  sqq. 
Personality  and  cognition,  12C-8,  157- 

164,  227 

—  and  purpose,  263  sqq. 

-  and  will,  172-3 

-  Cf.  further  52,  166-171,  175,  241-2 


Perversity,  333-4,  336 
Philosophy,  4,  16,  25,  27,  348,  350 
-  and  culture,  5-9,  14-15,  22 

—  its  construction,  5,  16  sqq.,  30 

—  its  development,  221,  284 
Physics  and   spontaneity,  243-6,  248 

sqq. 

Play,  331 

Pleasure,  44-5,  97-9,  146,  271 
Positivism,  293  sqq. 
Possible  and  potential  knowledge,  86 
Potentiality  243,  266 
Practice,  24,  117 

—  and  theory,  2,  24-7,  et  al. 

—  and  theoretical  consciousness,  94-5 
Pragmatism,  cf.  349-351 
Preconceptions,  6,  9,  48,  282 
Problem,  the  Greatest,  233,  237-8,  258, 

262,  267,  269  sqq.,  278,  363.    See 

also  Transcendence. 
Problems,  the  Great,  1,  3,  6,  9,  29-30, 

302-3 

Prudence,  334 
Psychological  problem  of  knowledge, 

105  sqq. 
Purposefulness,  of  monads,  246  sqq. 

—  of  the  Universe,  254  sqq.,  cf.  354 
—  and  personality,  263-7 

Pythagoras,  106,  350 


QUALITIES,  54-6 

-  primary  and  secondary,  41,  59-60, 
196-7 


RATIONALITY,  241-2,  251,  262 
Realism,  45 
Reality,  345  sq.,  269 

—  and  appearance,  205 

—  and  causation,  197,  235-6 

—  and  thought,  Appendix  VI 
!     —  and  time,  204-5,  235-6 

—  external,  45-9,  53,  132-5,  198 

-  internal,  92 

-  perception  of  external,  44,  95,  98, 

101-4,  129,  144,  «/.  282,  344-5 
Reason,  and  reality.    Ch.  VI,  Appendix 
VI.     Cf.  179-180,  215,  227 

-  human,  17-19,  269,  275,  288 
Recognition,  71  sqq. 
Recollection,  70-88,  93 
Relations,  180  sqq.,  211,  217 
Religion,  8-9,  171,  cf.  267  s</g. 

—  and  culture,  14 

—  and  Great  Problems,  11,  13-14 

—  and     positive    knowledge,    13-14, 

302-3 

Remorse,  162 

Representations,  68  sqq.,  11G,  117,  et  al. 
Renouvier,  356  sq. 


Index 


369 


Respectability,  cf.  274-5 
Kosmini,  353,  358,  359 
Kuffini,  300 


SAGACITY,  167 

Satisfaction,  98,  129,  131,  150 

—  and  value,  173,  273 
Scepticism,  10-11 
Scholastics,  290-1,  302-3,  355 
Schopenhauer,  296 
Schuppe,  284,  290,  306,  345 
Science,  8-12,  125,  286,  cf.  120-1 
Self.     See  Personality 
Self-centredness,  154-5,  174-7 
Self-consciousness,  59,  111,  12G-8,  157, 

160,  162-4,   cf.  172-3,  175,  197, 

208,  263  tqq. 

Selfishness,  154-5,  174-6,  177,  ef.  270-1 
Self-mastery,    cf.    163-8,    171-2,    263, 

271-2,  278,  306,  332 
Self-sacrifice,  155,  272 
Sempronius.    See  Titius 
Sensation  and  Feeling,  143-6 
Sense-perception.     Chapter  II 

-  the  process  of,  42,  cf.  143-6 

—  and  its  object,  38-43,  45-7 

-  and  its  subject,  32-8,  43-4,  56-63 
Sexual  relations,  153-4,  333 
Simple,  the,  231 

Society,  2,  170 

Solipsism,  and  Idealism,  295-6 

—  and    "  peculiarity     of    sense-per- 

cepts," 41-3,  223-4,  292 

—  not  necessarily  solipsistic  to  hold 

that  I  only  perceive  myself  or 
my  body,  59,  111 

-  Cf.  further  174-8,  226-7 
Soul,  241,  277,  2!»0 

Space,  180,  182, 184-190,  194,  208,  ct  al. 
Speech,  internal,  121-2 

—  and  abstraction,  118 

—  and  the  formation  of  the  person, 

159.     Cf.  also  350 
Spencer,  Herbert,  294 
Spiritual,  cf.  290  sq. 
Spontaneity,  91,  93,  156,216-9,  235  sqq. 

—  and  necessity,  239 

-  and  physics,  243-6,  248 

-  and  value,  139,  247 
Sub-consciousness,  80—1,  84 
Subject  of  experience,  32  sqq.,  64,  74- 

87,  96-7,  218,  347 

-  its  content,  33,  55,  111 

—  its    development,    64,     130-1,    cf. 

216,  246 

-  its  individuality,  7-1-6,  79,  cf.  87 
its  unity,  34,  76-85 

—  and  apprehension,  cf.  225  sqq. 

—  and  body,  35  sqq.,  56-63,  83 

—  and  indeterminism,  91,  93,  216-9 


Subject  of  experience,  and  judgment, 
106-8 

—  and  monads,  240  tqq. 

—  and  the  One,  213-4 

-  and  the  person,  52,  126-8,  174 

—  and  physical  laws,  157-6 

—  and  sense-perception,   44,  56-63, 

83,  130-1,  138 

-  universal  subject,   108,   134,    137- 

140,  cf.  238 

Suffering,  145-6,  164,  271-2,  335 
Symbols,  122 

THAMIRY,  355  sqq. 

Theory  and   practice,    1,  2,  24-7,  172, 
276,  299 

—  of  knowledge,  20  sqq.,  cf.  297-9 
Things  in  themselves,  50,  cf.  40-3, 329  sqq. 
Thinkable,  225  tqq.,  346  sqq. 

—  necessarily  exists,  232,  cf.  347 

—  opposed  to  concrete  objects,  235 
Thinking,  345-6 

-  its  formal  laws,  179-182 

-  its  validity,  179-180,  cf.  195-G 
"This,"  112,  124 

St.  Thomas,  318  tqq. 
Thought  and  things,  225  sqq. 
Time,  188-196 

-  and  logic,  217-8 

—  and  necessity,  239,  346-7 

-  and  reality,  204-7 
Titius,  292,  359 

-  and  Caius,  177-8,  266 

-  and  Sempronius,  18,  38,  39,  44,  49- 

51,  53,  82, 145,  182,  223,  226 
Tonality,  45,  142-3 
Transcendence,  267  sqq.,  354  sqq. 
Truth,  105-6,  285-6,  Appendix  IV 

—  and  value,  27-30,  274  sqq. 

—  positive  truths,  1,  12-16 

-  the  search  after,  Ch.  I,  215,  316  sqq. 
Type,  31  45 


UNCONSCIOUSNESS,  76-81 

—  different  zones  of,  82-5 

-  how  organised,  100-103,  130-1 
Unity    and    multiplicity,    204-5,    207, 

211-22,  cf.  232-3,  256  sqq. 

—  of  consciousness,  34-6,  51,  57-61, 

169,  cf.  208 

-  of  the  person,  126-S,  137-140,  169 

-  of  space,  187 

-  of  time,  189 

-  of  the  physical  world,  188-9,  1% 

-  of  the  universe,  20"),  20s,  -_>13 

-  individual  unities,  176-8 
Universal  Being,  23S 

Universal  subject,  108,  134,  137-140 
Unknowable,  the,  16  »qq.,  ff.  361 
Urraburu,  290 

*J    A 


The    Great  Problems 


VALUES,  and  abstraction,  25-6,  cf.  135, 
140,  269 

—  and  activity,  129  iqq.,  142,  et  al. 

—  and  feeling,  129,  140-3,145-6,152- 

3,287 
—  and  happiness,  271  tqq. 

—  and  physical  law,  132-5,  152-3 

—  and  purpose,  262  sqq. 

—  and  subjects,  154-5 

—  and  "  things,"  138 

—  and  will,  172-3 

—  criterion  of,  267  sqq. 

—  individual,  176,  266-270 

—  permanence  of,  267  sqq.     Cf.  also 

233,  257-8,  258,  262,  267 


Values,  scale  of,  cf.  161 
Virtue,  275,  290.    See  alto  Good. 
Volition,  93,  139-140,  172-3 


WAX,  and  impressions  on  it,  40  sqq. 
Will,  172-3,  cf.  332-4 
Goodwill,  10,  275 
Windelband,  306-7 

Words,  cf.    118,   121-2,  133,   142,   186, 
215,  230-1,  258,  293,  313,  336 


ZONES  of  unconsciousness,  82-5 


THE   END 


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